Completed [The Stone Gardens] "Darn That Cat"

[Eada Vine]

13th of Fall, 513 AV

“Damn.”

Eada was lost again. Every day this seemed to happen. It was a miracle she even made it to Syliras without getting lost in the wilderness and eaten by some monster. Well, they had a few close calls with bandits, but the people she travelled with seemed capable of dealing with that. Eada didn’t know how they did it, but she tried not to ask too many questions. She didn’t want them abandoning her half way there.

Only now it seemed she would have to ask for directions. At least, if she ever hoped to find her apartment again. She smiled to herself at the irony of the situation. She had left her apartment in order to familiarise herself with the city and she ended up getting lost. Again.

She shivered as a breeze caught in her hair. One day I will know these streets, she decided, but that didn’t help her now. A woman hurried past and Eada stepped forward, hand held out. “Excuse me,” but the woman marched past. Eada swore she shot a disdainful look over her shoulder and Eada glanced down at herself. She wasn’t too dirty and she didn’t smell. Although, she could probably do with buying a spare top. Her fiddle case was battered, no protection for the instrument, but it at least had a handle. She daren’t leave it in the apartment, just in case someone was to... investigate her room.

She sighed and looked down the street. It was empty, but she spotted a small ginger cat blinking at her. Eada frowned and stepped closer, rubbing her fingers together. The cat meowed and blinked again. “Hi, little guy.” She put down her fiddle and crouched down, a few metres from the animal. Its fur was clumpy and it was so thin. “Can’t find your home either? Or maybe you just don’t have one.” She supposed she was lucky there at least, even if she did have a habit of getting lost.

She sighed and shuffled closer. The cat leant its nose towards her and took a precarious step. “There, come on,” she whispered. “It’s alright.” Its wet nose touched her finger and Eada smiled. She reached forward to rub its back. Its tail twitched and, before Eada could yank her hand back, its claw scratched along her skin. “Ow!” She fell back and the cat shot off, running through an archway.

Eada stood and inspected the scratch. There was a thin line of blood appearing on the back of her hand and it began to raise in a welt. She should probably have been angry at the creature for attacking her, despite Eada’s good intentions, but she was tired. The mangy thing was just scared, she mused, and had probably assumed she was offering it some food.

She remembered how thin it was. It must have been disappointed to find an empty hand – an intrusive, knows-no-personal-space hand too. She sighed and shrugged her backpack off. She was sure she had a bit of dried meat somewhere in here. “Eada,” she shook her head at herself. “Stop being so stupid. It’s a cat.” But nonetheless, she picked up her fiddle and bag and followed the cat through the archway.

“Here, little cat. I’ve got you something.” This was ridiculous. She felt ridiculous. She straightened up and looked around. It was a garden. Curves of stone patterns weaved through the floor and twisted into beautiful shapes. Eada shuddered. There was something cold about this place. Maybe not cold exactly… she paused and looked over the curving stones. No, it wasn’t cold; it was sad.

[Eada Vine]

Eada spared a final glance around for the ginger cat and dropped the tiny strip of meat by a bush. He’d find it if he was really hungry. She moved along the stone path and looked down at the round pebbles. As she got closer, she realised they weren’t as smooth as they appeared. Each one had a blemish, a marking. She put her fiddle in the corner, wary of anyone that could be around. It didn’t look particularly attractive, but it’s sentimental value prevented Eada from noticing that no one else would price it particularly highly. She knelt down by a stone and ran her finger over the surface. It wasn’t a blemish, but a name.

Richard Blathe, she read. The next stone also had a name engraved – they all did. She managed a small, sad smile. This was a memorial. “The Stone Garden,” she realised. She had heard of it. She folded her lips and pretended there wasn’t a stinging in her eyes. There must have been hundreds, if not thousands, of stones. Thousands of people that had died.

“Why are you so sensitive?” She cursed herself. No, just sympathetic. But that wasn’t a comfort. She knew people died every day, but this place had something chilling about it. Something that reminded her of things she didn’t want reminding of. She sat down by her fiddle and pressed her hand to her head.

She needed to clear out the tangle of thoughts and emotions. It had been almost two seasons since her parents’ death, but it still plagued her – still felt it like a knife twisting in her chest. She opened the fiddle case and lifted it to her shoulder. The music was soothing.

She ran the bow along the strings and felt the notes shivering through her. She began to play, frustrated at her clumsy fingers. Her mother was so talented, so practised at playing, that every tune was beautiful. Here Eada was, in this beautifully sad place, murdering the songs. She wasn’t abysmal, but it wasn’t the beauty she had hoped for. A tear rolled warm down her cheek. She missed her mother.

What would she say now? Well, other than pull yourself together, girl. “Don’t press down so hard with the bow.” Her mother’s voice said, irritation pulling on the words. “Just let it float along the strings.” Eada took a deep breath and relaxed. The sound was crisper and sharper. Her fingers were still clumsy, nothing like her mother’s, and, as she thought it, the crispness was lost. She sighed.

She needed a teacher. “Who am I kidding? I need a mother.” She laid the fiddle back in its case and cried into her palms, feeling ridiculous, but her heart was too heavy to stop. It was this place, she knew. Somehow seeing those stones, observing the names of the dead, had brought it all back. She had thought coming to Syliras would help, but maybe not.

If only she hadn’t met that cat. She would never have come here. “Darn that cat.”

[Eada Vine]

She couldn’t help but laugh at herself. “Stop this.” She wiped the wet from her eyes and glanced over the stones. She picked up her fiddle and tried again. Make it float, she thought, remembering her mother’s lessons. It worked and she played the melody slowly, persuading herself to be gentle and patient. Each note would be smooth and crisp. At least when she played slowly, her fingers didn’t get tangled and muddled and her mother’s advice worked. The melody was sweet. She felt as though these souls that had moved on from this life would be satisfied to hear such music sung over their memory.

In the corner of her eye, there was a flash of ginger and Eada smiled, despite the stinging scratch on the back of her hand. “Hello again.” The cat sniffed along the stone and pounced on the strip of meat. She could hear it purring and Eada smiled at the cat’s satisfaction. But she’d learned her lesson: she wasn’t going to stroke it this time.

She placed her instrument back in the case and the cat meowed, stalking over to her. Eada narrowed her eyes as it got closer. She daren’t place a hand on its fur. “I don’t have any more food with me.” But the cat rubbed its face on her leg. “Oh, really? You want me to stroke you now?” Warily, she ran her hand over the cat’s head and it purred. Eada laughed, and, still cautious, stroked its back. She could feel each bump in its spine. The animal’s tale flicked and she pulled back. She didn’t want another scratch.

She sighed and stood up, leaving the stone garden and the ginger cat. The street was more crowded now and she stopped a man who seemed to be strolling leisurely. This one didn’t march off and didn’t seem to notice the damp clumping her eyelashes together. “It’s not too far from here,” he said and riddled off a list of directions. Eada nodded, repeating them, and headed toward home. Now she was moving, she recognised a few of the streets. If she had simply turned around the begin with she wouldn’t be feeling so heavy right now.

She rubbed the back of her hand and shook her head. “Darn that cat.”

[Radiant]

Eada :

Experience

Skill	XP Earned
Observation	+2 XP
Musical Instrument: Flute	+1 XP

Lores

Lore Earned

Location: The Stone Gardens

Loots

Notes :

Good short solo, Eada. I'm intrigued to see how she would pull through this.

My radiance is not bright enough?

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