[ Welcome to Summer Dorm! We're going crashing into a memory.
The scrapes burn across your legs and your sides as you lie on the grass, eyes turned toward the sky. The grass tickles your bare feet, the evening wind cool enough to soothe your aches where the dirt road had dragged against your legs, and where the rope around your wrists had rubbed the skin raw. You're used to your father's efforts to mold your behaviour into something greater than you are, and while it hasn't helped your manners any, you've gotten remarkably good at emerging relatively unscathed.
The bruises that mottle your abdomen and face are from something else entirely, already starting to fade. It's something that might've left you spitting mad when you were younger, but now, almost fifteen, you've learned how to keep your calm.
Along the borders of Almyra, the war makes heroes at the expense of families and children. You don't know about the orphans and casualties yet, about the tragedy and strife that haunts them, you only know of the brave that venture out to the Throat, earning glory with the blood of women and men.
Your brother is one such star. He'd left for the border at the age of sixteen, spending five years making a name for himself before returning to the capital to receive thanks from the king. He's young and handsome, enchanting the women and children of the palace, and he hates you down to his core.
So he requests to spar with you in the evening, with an axe to the back. And he offers up a demonstration of his leadership skills, by arranging that his companions do the same. This, too, once burned rage in your chest, potent and furious, and you once screamed and shouted until you realized that it never made a difference. But now, like your father's discipline, you've learned the best way to survive these situations is to keep hold of your temper.
Normally it's a point of pride for you, that you're clever and slippery enough to rob others of the satisfaction they want out of your blood, but this time, after a match with your brother's cronies, when you catch his eye, you don't see the anger or hate. You see disappointment that cools into disgust, as though you were being tested, and you failed.
"Nothing ever changes with you, does it."
That, for some reason, infuriates you.
Which is why you slip poison into his wine at dinner, knowing full well that there could only be no other culprits when he kneels over onto his plate. You couldn't even feign remorse when your father had turned his furious gaze toward you.
You don't feel it even now, as you push yourself up onto your feet, thinking about the quiet darkness around you, and the golden lights of the palace in the distance. You realize you feel nothing toward the sight of it, toward your home or your family. So your gaze returns to the stars and you follow them west. And suddenly, you wonder to yourself if perhaps your brother was right. Maybe you do need to change.
[they are fun. she's touching a hand to her back, her teeth worrying at her lip.]
Quite. [still, as much as she wants to ignore what she saw, in hopes he'll do the same to her...] Do you regret what you did, then? Or was it necessary?
[ To be honest, he doesn't mind the question. The answer is on the tip of his tongue, that his brothers were are callous and terrible. That they deserved all they got for making his life hell.
But. He hesitates. ]
... I'm not sure. Part of me wants to say there was no reconciling with them in our mad scramble for my father's position, but I wonder if I shouldn't have tried harder to connect with them.
It's difficult to know at what the limit is, when conflict becomes inevitable, isn't it?
[ ... ]
Uh, for the record, I didn't kill him. Though I don't know if crippling him is any better. Certainly gave him the chance to get revenge.
A little lonelier than your regular old enemies, I'd say. Your profile makes it seem like you hail from a noble house too. You haven't seen many squabbles for inheritance around you?
But we had the opposite problem. My mother had miscarriage after miscarriage before my birth, and then I was the last of our line. It was always very important, to keep the other Houses from learning of our fragile state. When they died I was still a child, so I had to maintain the illusion that they continued to live so we did not become...a protectorate of a larger House.
Not exactly. It is likely they would have brought us resources we were lacking in. But our independence, our traditions... the Fourth House has essentially become a colony of the Fifth. They do little more now than breed soldiers to send to the front lines and bleed.
"Breed"... That sounds pretty awful, I'm not going to lie. [ ... ] Are you... Do you feel pressure then, to continue your line? You mentioned you were the last, but.
[she gives him a look like please don't ask about this in the same sentence as you mentioned breeding.]
...No. That's somewhat besides the point. My House was in such a state that no...marriage or other action to that effect on my part would have saved it from decay. So my goal has always been to appeal to the Emperor directly for intercession. He does not typically involve himself in House matters, so his intervention would require me to rise to a level of necromantic power that would draw his notice.
It was the most terrible mistake I have ever made. At the least, the station provided me the means to rectify some of it. Otherwise, I would be destroyed by it.
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week 3, tuesday, wiwaldi / summer dorm
The bruises that mottle your abdomen and face are from something else entirely, already starting to fade. It's something that might've left you spitting mad when you were younger, but now, almost fifteen, you've learned how to keep your calm.
Along the borders of Almyra, the war makes heroes at the expense of families and children. You don't know about the orphans and casualties yet, about the tragedy and strife that haunts them, you only know of the brave that venture out to the Throat, earning glory with the blood of women and men.
Your brother is one such star. He'd left for the border at the age of sixteen, spending five years making a name for himself before returning to the capital to receive thanks from the king. He's young and handsome, enchanting the women and children of the palace, and he hates you down to his core.
So he requests to spar with you in the evening, with an axe to the back. And he offers up a demonstration of his leadership skills, by arranging that his companions do the same. This, too, once burned rage in your chest, potent and furious, and you once screamed and shouted until you realized that it never made a difference. But now, like your father's discipline, you've learned the best way to survive these situations is to keep hold of your temper.
Normally it's a point of pride for you, that you're clever and slippery enough to rob others of the satisfaction they want out of your blood, but this time, after a match with your brother's cronies, when you catch his eye, you don't see the anger or hate. You see disappointment that cools into disgust, as though you were being tested, and you failed.
"Nothing ever changes with you, does it."
That, for some reason, infuriates you.
Which is why you slip poison into his wine at dinner, knowing full well that there could only be no other culprits when he kneels over onto his plate. You couldn't even feign remorse when your father had turned his furious gaze toward you.
You don't feel it even now, as you push yourself up onto your feet, thinking about the quiet darkness around you, and the golden lights of the palace in the distance. You realize you feel nothing toward the sight of it, toward your home or your family. So your gaze returns to the stars and you follow them west. And suddenly, you wonder to yourself if perhaps your brother was right. Maybe you do need to change.
Claude rubs his head. ]
These are so fun.
no subject
Quite. [still, as much as she wants to ignore what she saw, in hopes he'll do the same to her...] Do you regret what you did, then? Or was it necessary?
no subject
But. He hesitates. ]
... I'm not sure. Part of me wants to say there was no reconciling with them in our mad scramble for my father's position, but I wonder if I shouldn't have tried harder to connect with them.
It's difficult to know at what the limit is, when conflict becomes inevitable, isn't it?
[ ... ]
Uh, for the record, I didn't kill him. Though I don't know if crippling him is any better. Certainly gave him the chance to get revenge.
no subject
[she doesn't judge him for the poisoning...]
I have no siblings, so I cannot know what it is means to make them your enemy, but even so.
no subject
A little lonelier than your regular old enemies, I'd say. Your profile makes it seem like you hail from a noble house too. You haven't seen many squabbles for inheritance around you?
no subject
Yes, in a sense, I do.
But we had the opposite problem. My mother had miscarriage after miscarriage before my birth, and then I was the last of our line. It was always very important, to keep the other Houses from learning of our fragile state. When they died I was still a child, so I had to maintain the illusion that they continued to live so we did not become...a protectorate of a larger House.
no subject
That's quite the burden to bear as a child. If you became a protectorate... would the other House squeeze your resources dry?
no subject
Not exactly. It is likely they would have brought us resources we were lacking in. But our independence, our traditions... the Fourth House has essentially become a colony of the Fifth. They do little more now than breed soldiers to send to the front lines and bleed.
no subject
"Breed"... That sounds pretty awful, I'm not going to lie. [ ... ] Are you... Do you feel pressure then, to continue your line? You mentioned you were the last, but.
[ extremely awkward ]
no subject
...No. That's somewhat besides the point. My House was in such a state that no...marriage or other action to that effect on my part would have saved it from decay. So my goal has always been to appeal to the Emperor directly for intercession. He does not typically involve himself in House matters, so his intervention would require me to rise to a level of necromantic power that would draw his notice.
no subject
Oh, I see. Are you on your way to achieving that then?
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Congratulations then. Not everyone gets a happy ending.
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Confused, he asks without thinking, ] What is a "Lyctor"?
no subject
An immortal being. Um...in Lup's world, it is called a lich. Someone who can use necromancy beyond the capacity of a mortal.
no subject
[ ... ]
Was it worth it?
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You lost someone.
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You were able to bring her back? Eventually?
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no subject