Another update
Sep. 21st, 2007 10:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ailsa_chanWangst isn't over yet, I'm afraid.
Amari took to sleeping at the side of bed, so she could be there waiting for when the inevitable nightmares came. The healer had reversed the spell that had locked up Zephyr's mind, but he could not undo the trauma of the imprisonment and torture. The drug they gave him to numb the pain helped him to sleep, but when its effects wore off, he would wake up screaming.
She hated how helpless she felt, unable to do anything except hold him until the shaking stopped and drug him until he slept. The healers had warned her that the mental scars would take much longer to heal than the physical ones. She tightened her resolve to make those who had done this to him suffer, but she suspected that would mere make her feel better, rather than him.
“Amari?”
She had been dozing on the floor, but woke at the sound of her name. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest. He had used her real name and she knew that signalled the question she had been dreading him asking. Slowly she stood up and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Yes?”
“Where's everyone else? You're always here, and I've seen Jack a few times, but what about the others?”
“Michael stayed with the queen, remember?” she said gently. “And the paladins took Summer.”
Zephyr nodded. He remembered someone saying something about Summer, something important, but could not recall who or what. “What about Saffron?Why hasn't she come to see me?” He remembered her crying and shouting at him. “Does she really hate me?”
Amari wrapped her arms around him. “No. She never hated you, no matter what she said. You were very very precious to her.”
“Then where is she?” He looked up at her, forcing her to meet his gaze. “What are you not telling me, Amari?”
She looked into his eyes and made a decision. “Come with me.”
She helped him out of bed and wrapped her blanket round his shoulders, then took his arm and led him from the room. He walked with slow, shuffling steps, as if he had forgotten how to use his body. Amari prayed that someone would catch them and take this horrible responsibility from her, but there was no one about.
They walked across the stone flags of the courtyard to a small square building. She took him inside and helped him down a flight of steep steps. There was only a little light, provided by candles on the wall. The air in here was chill and she could feel him shivering beneath the blanket. He must know, she thought. Why is he making me do this?
There was only one room in the building, a small chamber leading on from the foot of the stairs. There were no windows, only a couple of flickering candles that provided no warmth. In the centre of the room were four stone tables, three of which were empty. On the forth was a body shrouded by a sheet. Zephyr let go of her arm and started to walk towards it.
“Zephyr, don't do this!” Amari called as his hand went to lift the sheet. “You...you were very sick. The paladins had done something to you, and this was the only way. She gave herself for you.”
With a trembling hand he flicked back the sheet. Saffron's expression was serene, her eyes closed and a small smile on her lips. But her skin was pallid and waxy, her lips tinged with blue. Zephyr reached out and stroked her cold cheek. He stumbled then, falling to his knees. Amari hurried to his side. When she saw expression, she thought for one terrifying moment that she had undone all the good work and returned him to his mindless state.
Then his face crumpled and he began to sob. She wrapped herself around him, not knowing what else to do. There was a sound behind them, and she turned to see Jack come storming down the stairs. He grabbed her arm and threw her out of the way, before picking up Zephyr and carrying him from the room.
Amari lay stunned for a moment. She had never seen Jack act violently towards anyone, let alone a friend. After a moment she picked herself off the floor and headed up the stairs into the sunlight. The door to Zephyr's room was shut and she decided to wait outside. She could feel a bruise developing across her back where she had struck the table and she wasn't in the mood for picking up any more. After a while Jack emerged, closing the door quietly behind him. His face was dark with anger.
“Is he okay?” she asked quietly.
“Well, he's cried himself sick, but he's sleeping now. How could you do that, Amari?” Jack hissed. “You know he's not strong enough to deal with this yet.”
“He asked me. I couldn't lie to him.”
Jack sighed. “Amari, I know you won't believe me, but sometimes the Folk are wrong. Sometimes it's not only okay to lie; it's the right thing to do.”
She turned on him, green eyes flashing with anger. “No! This isn't about being Folk. This is about being me! I couldn't look him in the eye and lie to him about Saffron. I wasn't capable of it, and I don't think you would be either. That's why you've been avoiding him now he's more conscious.” She stormed off; calling something over her should as she went. Jack couldn't make out most of it, but he caught the word coward clearly enough. He sighed again, but he wasn't sure that she was wrong.
Saffron's funeral was held shortly afterwards. Now that Zephyr was aware of her death there was no reason to postpone it. Jack helped him to wash and dress, and then led him slowly out to an open area overlooking the sea, where the pyre had been prepared. The Folk style funeral had been Amari's idea. “No friend of mine is becoming food for worms,” she had said firmly and allowed nothing further to be said on the matter. Zephyr wondered what Saffron had done to earn such a high honour.
Amari was already waiting as they approached. None of the island's other inhabitants were around, choosing to leave them to their grief. She was holding a flaming torch, which she offered to Zephyr as he approached. He shook his head, realising what she was asking him to do, but she forced it into his hand.
“This task is yours by right,” she insisted.
Jack put his hand on Zephyr’s shoulder. “Come on, lad. It’s time to say goodbye.”
His fingers closed awkwardly around the base of the torch. He had most of the use of his
hands, apart from any particularly quick or dexterous motions. He took a trembling step towards the pyre and the shrouded figure set on top. His body felt heavy, hard to control. He wondered if this was what being old felt like. Slowly, he put the flame to the oil soaked logs, which went up in a whoosh of brilliant light.
He stepped back from the violent heat of the fire, but even a few paces away the air seemed bitterly cold. Shivering, he allowed himself to be led away to a chair that had been placed nearby and wrapped up in a large blanket. As the flames licked higher towards their ultimate goal, he watched as Amari and Jack settled themselves down.
Jack produced his tambour and struck up a steady beat. After a few bars, Amari opened her mouth and began to sing: a strange, wordless melody, poignant and beautiful. Jack joined in shortly afterwards with a deep, rumbling bass of pain and loss. They were singing their grief, Zephyr realised, sending their feelings out across the wind and waves.
He wished he could join in, open his soul and free his pain. But where that pain should be, he felt nothing but a dull ache, as if someone had punched him in the stomach a while ago. Since his initial shock at seeing Saffon’s body, he had felt nothing: no pain, no grief or anger. Instead, a cold numbing sensation filled his body.
The flames were eating away at the shrouded form now. The air was full of the sweet spicy scent of the perfumed resins that had been added to the fire to mask the other smells. He could not face staying out here any longer. He did not want to stay and listen to music he could play no part in; he did not want to watch his friend become swirling ashes on the wind.
He stood up, leaving the blanket discarded on the chair. Jack and Amari let him leave without comment. Maybe they felt they could not leave the pyre; maybe they thought he would prefer some time to grieve alone. Zephyr did not want to grieve at all. He knew the deadened feeling would fade shortly and he did not want to deal with what would come afterwards.
When he returned to his room he found that the bed had been made, and a small meal laid out. Next to this was a dose of the milky painkiller. He ignored the food and went straight for the drug. He drank it and sat down, feeling drowsy almost instantly. Maybe if he could just go back to sleep, he would not have face anything.
Amari took to sleeping at the side of bed, so she could be there waiting for when the inevitable nightmares came. The healer had reversed the spell that had locked up Zephyr's mind, but he could not undo the trauma of the imprisonment and torture. The drug they gave him to numb the pain helped him to sleep, but when its effects wore off, he would wake up screaming.
She hated how helpless she felt, unable to do anything except hold him until the shaking stopped and drug him until he slept. The healers had warned her that the mental scars would take much longer to heal than the physical ones. She tightened her resolve to make those who had done this to him suffer, but she suspected that would mere make her feel better, rather than him.
“Amari?”
She had been dozing on the floor, but woke at the sound of her name. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest. He had used her real name and she knew that signalled the question she had been dreading him asking. Slowly she stood up and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Yes?”
“Where's everyone else? You're always here, and I've seen Jack a few times, but what about the others?”
“Michael stayed with the queen, remember?” she said gently. “And the paladins took Summer.”
Zephyr nodded. He remembered someone saying something about Summer, something important, but could not recall who or what. “What about Saffron?Why hasn't she come to see me?” He remembered her crying and shouting at him. “Does she really hate me?”
Amari wrapped her arms around him. “No. She never hated you, no matter what she said. You were very very precious to her.”
“Then where is she?” He looked up at her, forcing her to meet his gaze. “What are you not telling me, Amari?”
She looked into his eyes and made a decision. “Come with me.”
She helped him out of bed and wrapped her blanket round his shoulders, then took his arm and led him from the room. He walked with slow, shuffling steps, as if he had forgotten how to use his body. Amari prayed that someone would catch them and take this horrible responsibility from her, but there was no one about.
They walked across the stone flags of the courtyard to a small square building. She took him inside and helped him down a flight of steep steps. There was only a little light, provided by candles on the wall. The air in here was chill and she could feel him shivering beneath the blanket. He must know, she thought. Why is he making me do this?
There was only one room in the building, a small chamber leading on from the foot of the stairs. There were no windows, only a couple of flickering candles that provided no warmth. In the centre of the room were four stone tables, three of which were empty. On the forth was a body shrouded by a sheet. Zephyr let go of her arm and started to walk towards it.
“Zephyr, don't do this!” Amari called as his hand went to lift the sheet. “You...you were very sick. The paladins had done something to you, and this was the only way. She gave herself for you.”
With a trembling hand he flicked back the sheet. Saffron's expression was serene, her eyes closed and a small smile on her lips. But her skin was pallid and waxy, her lips tinged with blue. Zephyr reached out and stroked her cold cheek. He stumbled then, falling to his knees. Amari hurried to his side. When she saw expression, she thought for one terrifying moment that she had undone all the good work and returned him to his mindless state.
Then his face crumpled and he began to sob. She wrapped herself around him, not knowing what else to do. There was a sound behind them, and she turned to see Jack come storming down the stairs. He grabbed her arm and threw her out of the way, before picking up Zephyr and carrying him from the room.
Amari lay stunned for a moment. She had never seen Jack act violently towards anyone, let alone a friend. After a moment she picked herself off the floor and headed up the stairs into the sunlight. The door to Zephyr's room was shut and she decided to wait outside. She could feel a bruise developing across her back where she had struck the table and she wasn't in the mood for picking up any more. After a while Jack emerged, closing the door quietly behind him. His face was dark with anger.
“Is he okay?” she asked quietly.
“Well, he's cried himself sick, but he's sleeping now. How could you do that, Amari?” Jack hissed. “You know he's not strong enough to deal with this yet.”
“He asked me. I couldn't lie to him.”
Jack sighed. “Amari, I know you won't believe me, but sometimes the Folk are wrong. Sometimes it's not only okay to lie; it's the right thing to do.”
She turned on him, green eyes flashing with anger. “No! This isn't about being Folk. This is about being me! I couldn't look him in the eye and lie to him about Saffron. I wasn't capable of it, and I don't think you would be either. That's why you've been avoiding him now he's more conscious.” She stormed off; calling something over her should as she went. Jack couldn't make out most of it, but he caught the word coward clearly enough. He sighed again, but he wasn't sure that she was wrong.
Saffron's funeral was held shortly afterwards. Now that Zephyr was aware of her death there was no reason to postpone it. Jack helped him to wash and dress, and then led him slowly out to an open area overlooking the sea, where the pyre had been prepared. The Folk style funeral had been Amari's idea. “No friend of mine is becoming food for worms,” she had said firmly and allowed nothing further to be said on the matter. Zephyr wondered what Saffron had done to earn such a high honour.
Amari was already waiting as they approached. None of the island's other inhabitants were around, choosing to leave them to their grief. She was holding a flaming torch, which she offered to Zephyr as he approached. He shook his head, realising what she was asking him to do, but she forced it into his hand.
“This task is yours by right,” she insisted.
Jack put his hand on Zephyr’s shoulder. “Come on, lad. It’s time to say goodbye.”
His fingers closed awkwardly around the base of the torch. He had most of the use of his
hands, apart from any particularly quick or dexterous motions. He took a trembling step towards the pyre and the shrouded figure set on top. His body felt heavy, hard to control. He wondered if this was what being old felt like. Slowly, he put the flame to the oil soaked logs, which went up in a whoosh of brilliant light.
He stepped back from the violent heat of the fire, but even a few paces away the air seemed bitterly cold. Shivering, he allowed himself to be led away to a chair that had been placed nearby and wrapped up in a large blanket. As the flames licked higher towards their ultimate goal, he watched as Amari and Jack settled themselves down.
Jack produced his tambour and struck up a steady beat. After a few bars, Amari opened her mouth and began to sing: a strange, wordless melody, poignant and beautiful. Jack joined in shortly afterwards with a deep, rumbling bass of pain and loss. They were singing their grief, Zephyr realised, sending their feelings out across the wind and waves.
He wished he could join in, open his soul and free his pain. But where that pain should be, he felt nothing but a dull ache, as if someone had punched him in the stomach a while ago. Since his initial shock at seeing Saffon’s body, he had felt nothing: no pain, no grief or anger. Instead, a cold numbing sensation filled his body.
The flames were eating away at the shrouded form now. The air was full of the sweet spicy scent of the perfumed resins that had been added to the fire to mask the other smells. He could not face staying out here any longer. He did not want to stay and listen to music he could play no part in; he did not want to watch his friend become swirling ashes on the wind.
He stood up, leaving the blanket discarded on the chair. Jack and Amari let him leave without comment. Maybe they felt they could not leave the pyre; maybe they thought he would prefer some time to grieve alone. Zephyr did not want to grieve at all. He knew the deadened feeling would fade shortly and he did not want to deal with what would come afterwards.
When he returned to his room he found that the bed had been made, and a small meal laid out. Next to this was a dose of the milky painkiller. He ignored the food and went straight for the drug. He drank it and sat down, feeling drowsy almost instantly. Maybe if he could just go back to sleep, he would not have face anything.
