Completed Words in Time

[Litani]

Timestamp: Dawn of the 1st day of Winter Season, 505 She slept. She could not say for how long she slept, but for once, she slept. Truly, deeply, deliciously... and it felt so good, so satisfying, so... ...when she woke up, she was soaking wet, her entire body covered in sweat, her hair wild and clinging to her shoulders. She sat bolt upright and her breath was panting somehow, yet not in fear... in... something else. All at once, the memory came back to her, all but knocking the sense out of her as she cast herself back down upon the pillow, laughing softly, breathing the lusty sound in the secret spaces that a woman has alone, in her bedchamber. Sweet Mother of Mercy... And then she remembered more. She closed her eyes and saw his. She heard his voice. Felt his strength. Smelled the scent of his sweat mixed with hers. Flashes of the dream replayed behind her closed eyelids and she felt her hands on her shivering body, just the way he'd touched her... But there was something else. Something was missing. He was missing. Nothing was the same now, he wasn't here. What she did felt nice but... it wasn't him. Her body still responded, albeit begrudgingly it seemed, but at the moment of release she found her mind sobbing for him and crying out, voiceless, wishing for a phantom that could never be... It wasn't real. As she lay delicately recovering, she stared at the ceiling with unseeing eyes and shook her head faintly, half in disbelief at herself, half in refusal to accept. It wasn't real. Her eyes closed and her brows furrowed against the pain of that realization and she cringed, rolling onto her side and curling herself closed, wrapping her arms around herself... a stray touch found a single scale and she froze, motionless. His scale. The place he'd marked her, in the dream. It hurt somehow...! She tossed aside the sheet and sat up abruptly, glancing down her body to that one single scale, that specific spot only they knew... but she could see nothing. The sheets of Laviku's mark covered the place and, unless she tore back the scale itself, she could not lay eyes on the skin underneath. With a faint shudder, she lay back for a few moments and collected herself, preparing to face the day. He'd wanted her. All the times they'd spent together, all the 'lessons' they'd concocted as reason to see each other... or was that part in her head?, did she flatter herself with such a thought...? ...all the times they'd drawn close, only to drift apart again, she'd only ever glimpsed at such a powerful feeling from him. He kept himself so caged, so controlled, so tightly constricted that it was hard for even her Gift to read him; she knew the physical truth of his body, knew he cared for himself and wanted for nothing, but usually such primal instincts as they were toying with were at least somewhat apparent to her. Arousal was a physical need like any other but... only glimpses. Only the briefest flare in those endless blue eyes. Only the barest whisper of a fire smoldering in his veins. In comparison, she'd felt herself a wildfire, and blessed Rak'keli every day that her 'Gift' did not flow in both directions. Whether or not he believed her 'professional' mask was an unstated mystery. Ohh, he'd pressed beyond her boundaries almost the moment she ever suggested where they were, but only just so far. Only just enough. And if he suspected that he'd already carved out a piece of her mind, he never claimed it for his own. Not until the dream. And now here she was, suffering sweetly the manifestation of what they'd been doing to each other for weeks, what they'd been teasing each other with. Of course she would dream of it. Of course. It was only natural. That's it. It was only natural. She told herself that as she rose from her bed, washed her body and her hair, dressed. Understandable. A natural response. She told herself that over and over, believing it a little less each time. But it didn't matter. It was a dream, it was hers alone, and if that tender scale still throbbed a little... well... so be it. Only one thing troubled her - how she could hide this from her eyes when next she saw him. She needn't have worried. The small house that she shared with her mother, Rosalar, was frequently not large enough to the two active women apart from one another. Consequently, Litani was almost always aware of when mother had one of her... visitors. Last night had been such a night. Oh, she'd seen him before, and when they crossed paths briefly in the kitchen the day previous, Litani only gave him a sidelong glance. She didn't like this one. He was rough, course, rude, inconsiderate and for the life of her, Litani could not understand what Rosalar saw in him. Even providing for the feminine tendency to lust after the 'bad' in men, even providing for her mother's previously proven abysmal taste in the opposite sex, this one was a particularly egregious specimen. He knew nothing of magic so her mother couldn't have been using him for that. To the best Litani could figure, he was just some piece of trash that Rosalar had picked up somewhere, someone who said the right things and made her feel special somehow. It mattered little to the young Konti - he'd be gone in a fortnight or a year, it didn't matter. They always left eventually. They left or they were asked to leave, one way or the other. Rosalar's transient affections had written the script for both hers and her daughter's life to this point thus far and Litani was sure that this time would be no different. Especially when she'd heard the shouting downstairs earlier that evening. She'd shrugged it off; it was nothing to concern herself over. Not this time, not all the times before. But there was something different on this particular day. Fate had decreed it, apparently. Perhaps Rak'keli answered prayer after all. If so, She would have many to follow after... Litani came down the narrow stairs with a comb in her hand, raking its teeth through her long blonde hair carelessly, her mind only on breakfast. She'd woken ravenously hungry, no doubt a consequence of her unconscious exertions last night; a brief flicker of a smile crossed her face as she contemplated this but it was gone in a moment - it wasn't real. As she turned the corner towards the main living area of their home, something suddenly caught Litani's attention - something didn't feel right. Something wasn't right. For a few fleeting seconds, she couldn't say just what it was, only that something in the air felt... twisted. Darker. Off, somehow. She stopped where she was and her medic's mind switched on, listening, smelling, searching for what was causing such a feeling. There. On the floor, around the corner. There. Broken in the morning's half-light, covered in blood that could only be her own, there. Rosalar. Oh hell. In a moment, Litani was down the stairs and in the kitchen, knelt beside her mother and reaching out to the contorted, shaking body on the floor. What that touch might cost her never even crossed her mind - she saw a patient, saw her mother, and reached out. Simple instinct. Innocent. That innocence came crashing apart in her mind as her Gift roared with their connection, screaming inside her head of all the broken shards and snapped threads of sanity that were the result of the overgiven mage on the floor in front of her. Her body was ruinous to touch, broken from the inside of the soul, caught in a claw writhe on the floor and whispering nonsense against the tiles... For long seconds, Litani was frozen in horrified agony, unable to bear it but unable to move away, struck as if by some kind of bloody lightning that seared her mind and sealed her body in contact with the source of the pain. Rosalar had lost herself, alive but gone, tortured in the grief and anguish that had once been the tempting deliciousness of Djed... but now left her a heaving husk on the floor, twitching and mindless, writhing beneath the hands of her daughter. Somehow, through Rak'keli's grace alone, Litani scrambled back away and cried out, shuddering, feeling as if the oil-slick of disease had crawled inside her mind and taken a part of her away. ...I am here, now, I am here, now, IamherenowIamherenow... Light, Rak'keli, I am here now, PLEASE don't leave me... Her hands, shaking violently, curled themselves along the doorframe and she slowly drug herself to her feet, her eyes unable to look away from Rosalar's body on the floor. She had no idea what her mother had been attempting, what in the blazing hells could have possessed her... she knew only what she'd heard, what she'd avoided listening to, and she could only guess why Rosalar had extended herself. Perhaps something in her had latched onto this particular man and she'd reached out, trying to 'fix' whatever had gone wrong, tried to Project herself...? Litani could not guess. All she could do was stand there staring, feeling the remnants of her own dreamed desire lying low in her veins as the broken reality of how dangerous desire could be lay on the ground in front of her. She never knew what she wanted... she never knew herself... Litani gasped a quiet sound of despair and stumbled into the other adjoining room, trying desperately to gather her senses and sort through her thoughts - nothing of her Gift or Rak'keli's mark could heal this, she knew that well enough. She never knew herself... she never knew what she wanted. Never knew how to get it, only what she felt. Only what she wanted others to feel... As if somehow born on the threads of the dawn, a lace of light found its way through the window and played across Litani's face; she need never guess, she realized. She need never be this vulnerable. She turned, shaking, back to Rosalar and crossed the small distance towards her. As she walked, her hand traveled her own body and slid beneath her clothes to find a single, aching scale hidden away. She need never guess. Rak'keli, Laviku, Avalis... from her very making, she need never guess of her lovers... need never wonder. She knew this suddenly, in a clear crystallizing that felt at once both joyous and like condemnation. A thousand things ran through her mind in that moment as she looked down at the woman who had given her life, who could no longer see her child. Litani's fingertip slid beneath the delicate scale and she let a memory of the dream glide through her mind - the memory of what it felt like to be needed. Bodily needed. Craved. Demanded. Required in a way that would never fade, would flow like a river between two bodies, two souls... needed entirely, for all herself. Not for what lies existed in the masks between two people, but needed for the truth of what they could create together. Needed. Her Gift would give her this knowledge and she need never doubt it... it had never been wrong, never mislead her. With a flinch, she drew her fingernail in a slash across the delicate skin, marking it for true, marking it deep and letting the blood coat her finger tip. After a handful of seconds, she brought the finger to her lips and let the taste settle on her tongue, whispering softly in the darkest corners of her mind, ...nothing less will have me. Never. It may not be you... I wish, I want, but... you are a man unto yourself... I do not know if I could truly make you feel... It may not be you, but you've shown me how to live with what I can't live without... "...The teacher has long since been the student, Matthew, and this your best lesson, though you know it not... Nothing less. Never. I swear it." ------------ Mid-morning saw the blessed assistance of her fellow students; Litani had gone to them, pleading, crying with true but somehow hollow grief and told them of what she had found. They knew nothing of her Gift, for she had never spoken of it, wanting always to be judged by merit alone... but she could not touch Rosalar again. It was hard enough being in the same room, in the same carriage with her. It would be hard enough being in the same cabin on the boat she’d chartered, for Mura was the only place left for her to go now. She could not touch her. Her friends had understood, somehow, in terrified awe of the sight of an overgiven elder... This, too, could be their fate if they were not cautious. They seemed aware, speaking little and leaving Litani the space she so desperately desired. She’d left the matters of estate to a trusted companion and surrendered everything but the money it took to purchase passage on the fastest ship in the harbor - she could not come back. Not here. Restless, her azure eyes scanned the group of them, scanned the people that walked by on the street or stopped to ask if they could help... Matthew was not among them. Of course he was not. It was not yet time, and he was always punctual. And what would you do with him if he was here, hm? She didn’t know. She truly didn’t know. Oh hells. He’ll be here tonight, and I... cannot... Darting to her feet, Litani scrambled back into the house and almost knocked over one of the medic students that had come to attend - she muttered some apology and something about being back in a moment, then fled up the stairs and tore into her room, her eyes scanning back and forth. She found parchment, found ink, found a quill and then sat down. And stared at the page. Numbly, she stared and felt a twice-cursed idiot for having not the slightest clue what to say to her clandestine ‘student’, the lover in her dreams, the... Suddenly, she began to write. I must leave you. I do not wish to, but I must. My mother is overgiven and beyond my skill to heal. The Seers of Mura may mend her... I do not know. I must take her there, for I cannot care for her here. I do not know if I can return to Zeltiva... my only other family resides in Syliras. Perhaps there lies my path. I will not forget you. I dreamt of you last night... I dreamt of things I cannot say, but I remember seeing your eyes as you felt... It was a look I only glimpsed in all our time together, but perhaps I taught you something of it, for if I did not, all else was forfeit. May you find that which you want someday, Matthew... May you find that which makes you truly feel. If you do, seize it... for life is sacred, and so is desire. Sacred and dangerous. Perhaps one day, Fate will be kind. And then, signed with a single word in Tukant, the language of the Akalak, Litani She folded the letter into an envelope, sealed it with wax impressed with a single ‘L’, and then wrote his name elegantly on the outside of it. She stole back down the stairs and took a last look around, ascertaining that she’d gathered what she’d need. As a last gesture, she closed the door and tacked the letter to it... off to one side, delicately hidden but altogether obvious for anyone who came calling for a resident within. The single word of Tukant read ‘Remade’.