- Invitation Status
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Genres
- Fantasy, Modern, Magical, Romance, Action, Urban Fantasy
"Mother I'm - I'm so sorry."
"Get away from me," she hissed. Tears poured freely down her cheeks. "You - You were about to whip your father. Why? He's done nothing to you."
"Did you not hear me out there? I told you what he did to me."
"H-He would never hurt you."
Denial. Amalia crouched, removed her sari, and lifted the bottom of her blouse to reveal the crisscrossing pattern of scars running over her back. Her mother gasped and ran a trembling finger over her scarred skin.
"H-How long?" she croaked.
"Since I was ten."
"No he can't have..."
"He'd make me sleep in the stables every time he whipped me."
"He said it was because you wanted to. Said you liked being around the camels."
"No... He hid me there so you wouldn't see what was wrong."
Rhia wrapped her fingers around Amalia's wrists. Eyes as wide as plates, she lowered her head to the floor. Her forehead gently touched it.
"I am sorry. So very sorry. I failed you as a parent, as a mother."
For several minutes, Amalia and Rhia sat there on the cold hard stone floor, her mother sobbing and apologizing profusely through her snot and tears. Amalia watched with a dejected look, torn at how pathetic and pitiful her mother looked. The woman used to be a strong and capable individual before the sickness took her.
Curled into a fetal position, Rhia cried herself to sleep - this was a process Amalia was all too familiar with. Watching her mother felt like someone was stabbing a thin, sharp knife into her heart, and when Amalia was certain that Rhia had fallen asleep, she scooped the woman in her arms. Her light weight concerned Amalia. Rhia was taken to her bedroom, where she rested on soft camel hide, and a pillow made from vulture feathers. Amalia waited anxiously at the doorway, sighed, and found Rakar waiting for her in the hallway.
"I didn't see you come in."
Coros spoke from Rakar's shoulder.
"Nor were you meant to. You have more important matters to concern yourself with."
The door softly closed behind Amalia. Hesitation.
"I don't know what... Out there with my father. I can't even begin to - " She hugged herself and shuddered. The words were not coming out.
"Perhaps you should sit. Let yourself try and relax."
She exhaled. "I shouldn't. I need to get back to the palace. I need to check on Takeda." Matil meowed at Amalia, but she ignored it. "Are you ready to leave?"
His eyes narrowed, looking her over. It was clear she was still shaken.
"You've already given word that you would be staying here for the night. I see no reason to leave so suddenly."
"It's only to check on Takeda, Rakar. I'll return once I've seen to him."
She stepped forward towards the door, head dizzy and vision blurring. Something made her pause, and she looked at Matil.
"Are you coming with me?"
The sand cat was sitting, unmoving. Rakar and Coros followed Amalia's gaze to Matil, sitting by Rhia's door looking longingly through the small gap on the floor. Coros leaped to the floor from Rakar's shoulder, and slowly moved towards the other Aux. He gazed at the sand cat quizzically, stopping and sitting next to her. After a moment, Matil looked up at Coros, and he spoke softly.
"... Why do you not simply say it then?"
Ears folded over her small skull and Matil backed away from the dragon. Amalia removed her hand from the doorknob, perplexed. "She doesn't talk. I've tried."
"Oh, but she speaks volumes if only you would listen. You of all people should know that."
"But she doesn't talk."
Coros turned his gaze to Amalia.
"One does not need to talk in order to speak. However, given the circumstances, I'm left to wonder why she doesn't in this particular situation."He looked back to Matil. "If ever there was a time to tell her directly, I think this would be it."
Matil kept her eyes averted, tail curled around her paws. Amalia moved to her Aux, unsure.
"Matil. Let's go. We need to - "
Then she did something unexpected. Matil hissed, fangs bared and tongue curled into the back of her mouth. The general withdrew instantly, frightened of her own soul. Amalia swallowed, and cautiously, carefully sat next to her Aux. The cat continued to ignore her, staring intently under the crack of Rhia's bedroom.
"I don't understand... This hasn't happened before."
"Aux and Crux. Mind and Heart. Body and Soul. When the two are conflicted, there shall be no harmony."
An old proverb.
Amalia froze, mind turning over the events outside with her father. She remembered her rage, the build up, and the leather whip in her hands.
Another memory flooded in, a memory of seeing Matil transform from a tawny housecat into the sand cat she was now after Amalia discovered her Ward advent.
Brown eyes gazed into Rakar's black ones.
"What happened to her? While I - We were outside."
The Draken sighed and met her gaze. His voice was low, so as to not wake Rhia.
"Perhaps we should sit."
He gestured towards the living room. Nodding, Amalia rose and strode into the living room; Matil followed at a graceful trot, almost eager now that Amalia would be staying in the house. The General took a seat by the fireplace, still hugging herself. Rakar followed behind Amalia. After the General sat down, Rakar set his shield down against a wall, and began removing his armor. Meanwhile, Coros continued to speak.
"During that confrontation outside, your Aux began to change into something that, from what I could tell, was a bit more fierce. I saw very prominent fangs growing, among other changes. That is why we did our best to calm you down. Why we disobeyed orders. It would not do to allow such a profound change in you to take place."
"And what if I wanted that change?" She murmured, eyes downcast. "What if I felt like I needed that change to become a better General?"
"Then, will all due respect, you are a fool."
Shock, pure and simple. "I am?"
Coros nodded. "What did you hope to accomplish by whipping your father in front of everyone? Vengeance perhaps, but other than that, what is there?"
"Vengeance. I was angry and wanted to take it out on my father... But yes there is more."
Fingers laced themselves into her tangled hair.
"The Blood Soiree worries me. I have to be strong in front of the nocturnes and Kaustir is not known for being kind, but I am kind. It is my core. So I have to change and adapt, and with all that is happening my anger is my first response."
There were onlookers, people who would no doubt talk about Amalia's hesitation. She groaned inwardly, wondering how the Czar and Lut Sar would react to her actions, or lack thereof.
"Do you understand?"
Rakar set down his chest piece and gave a glance to Amalia.
"All too well."
"But it is your kindness which makes you who you are. Who you must continue to be. One can be as strong as the mightiest of Kaustirian warriors, and still be kind. It is easy to let yourself be consumed by rage. To allow your compassion to wither and die in favor of obtaining greater strength. To have both is difficult. But in doing so, you will become greater than anyone who might challenge you."
She shook her head. "I don't believe you. Lukesh, Lut Sar, Kirtin, K'jol - they are all known for their brutality. Show me someone who is both kind and strong, while still keeping their status."
Rakar and Coros paused for a moment, and both looked to the General with a somber expression. They spoke in unison.
"No one."
Coros spoke alone while Rakar continued with his armor.
"That is why you must be the first."
She did not speak for some time, digesting his words with a pensive look. When she spoke again, it was about a different subject matter.
"Will Matil be alright?"
"Only you can answer that question."
Amalia still looked worried. She eyed her Aux, looking at it with the same look one might give a sick pet. It prompted Coros to walk over to the General and stand in front of her to catch her attention.
"General, when you speak to me, who are you speaking to?"
"Coros."
"That is what I am called, but it is not who I am. Likewise, Rakar is what he is called, but not who he is. If he was called Coros, and I Rakar, would it make a difference? I am him. He is me. We are one and the same. A name is only given to an Aux when the need for others to differentiate between the two arises. By speaking to me you are speaking to him, and vise versa. There is no difference between the two."
He took a short pause to allow Amalia a chance to process what he was saying.
"You know this already, but I fear that, like many others, you have lost sight of that fact. You know it is true, but you do not take the time to really see it. You look at your Aux, and what do you see? When your Aux looks to you, what does she see? If the answer is anything other than 'I see myself' then you have lost sight of who you are... But I think I can help you with that."
She started to lie, to protest, but the fight evaporated. "And what can you do?"
"I can only give you a suggestion. I cannot force you to do it. It's something that I do every so often to remind myself who I am. All you have to do is take a moment to look into the eyes of your Aux, while she looks back into yours. Look deep, and do not look away until you find it."
Unsettled, Amalia looked down at Matil; the sand cat had crawled out as Coros spoke. Her amber eyes locked with Amalia's and the two stared at one another for merely a few seconds before both looked away.
The truth was, Amalia was not satisfied with her Aux. Or perhaps it was her Aux that wasn't satisfied with her. But Amalia had known all along that there was a disconnect, and that gap could only close when both of them had a goal in mind, like aiding Rakar in the mines, or breaking K'jol of his bindings in Avarath. Otherwise Matil was constantly seeking acknowledgement.
Amalia wanted Matil to be fiercer, bigger, not a scrawny cat who hid under furniture or circled between her legs. She wanted Matil to have a presence and a voice, but it had never been achieved.
The General stood. "I'll be at the palace. I need to check on Takeda."
But as Amalia began making her way towards the door, Matil stood there watching her. Fingers about to clasp the doorknob, she heard a voice she'd never heard before, yet somehow inherently familiar.
"I don't want to run anymore."
It was quiet, yet easily heard in the still silence of the room. Matil's voice was almost a whimper, as if she were about to cry.
She spoke. My Aux, my soul, spoke.
"I'm not running. I am taking care of business."
"Stay. Mother needs us."
Amalia winced. "Takeda needs me."
"Mother needs us more."
Fists clenched. A tear dropped from her cheek.
"Stop running. If we are to change, we have to stop running."
The voice was small, childlike, like Matil hadn't fully matured. It sickened Amalia and she knew what it meant, what it reflected about themselves.
Withdrawing from the door, Amalia pursed her lips. "... I'll stay." She looked to the black scaled draken, realizing that her fondness for the soldier was growing, and while it scared Amalia, it gave her some reassurance about Kaustir; there was someone else in this nation who shared her compassionate trait. "Rakar you are not allowed to leave my side. Not ever. Is that clear?"
Rakar had finished removing his armor, wearing loose fitting clothes underneath. He and Coros smirked at her remark towards him.
"I will do my job General. To protect you as best I can."
The blackscale was flattered, but promising to stay by her side at all times was something he wanted to avoid. After all, he did have a life outside of the military.
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