Delzebub
Loiterer
She was ready to drag her youngest brother across the cobblestone and back home, where he should have been earlier in the week, but the shorter man that had made a good time of their session in the tavern promptly offered to take him. For a moment she cocked an eyebrow at this offer, and though the man seemed genuine and kind, she knew nothing of him — Only that he had followed her brother around in his absence. Finally, she seemed to decide that this was alright, as she was heading in the opposite direction, anyways. She was tired, emotional, and needed the comforts of her own abode, after all. Going through the hassle of taking Telian all the way across town was not exactly appealing at this particular hour — Especially when she had just lost her daughter. Gods, what she would give to have Telian’s weak tolerance for liquor…
She accepted this, nodding in good favor, but not without another critical fluttering of her eyelids. The man was kind, but like her brother, she was not so keen on putting faith in a stranger. If it hadn’t been the last bit he had added before their parting, regarding her lack of knowledge of the whole ordeal and how he was willing to fill her in on the missing facts, she would have surely insisted on taking her brother home. But too tired to argue, and honestly lacking the nerve to, she accepted the agreement with another nod, standing from her stool. “Thank you.” She murmured in passing, heart longing and bones aching for her own bed.
As she wandered out and through town, the stars glittered above them, but she would pay them no heed; usually, the stars brought her relief — a glistening light in the dark distance — but she found none there, not today. As she found her way back, with a quick survey of the halls she figured Favian was not yet home, but he was not the only one needing to be told the recent and grim tidings. The sight of her parent’s faces at the table were enough to crack the strength she had spent throughout the day; and crying silently, she spent the rest of the dwindling night hours explaining the predicament. Her Father was angry, rightfully, with his youngest son, as blame was easy to lay on the boy for his rash actions — While her mother sympathized with her, cooing words that were meant to be comforting, but fell numbly against her ears. As night wasted away and her parents retreated, she found herself wandering back into her daughter’s room, where she would eventually find sleep curled in the sheets of her daughter’s bed.
Come morning, her exhaustion and discomfort had followed her through the night, stubborn and unwilling to leave. She lifted herself with some effort out of the room, physically heavy with grief. Her parents had not yet risen, which was probably for the best, as she did not feel like speaking to them, or anyone, of the resentment at hand — When she felt ill, and when she felt sick with the world, her instinct was to remain constructive. Such had been the case when Abaet had left her, and such would be now.
She needed to speak to Telian. He probably had some useful information to share, and needed to be questioned for his actions. He had gone missing for a week, afterall, and during the same week her daughter had. Once again, she set off to cross town, hair still in a loose and tangled braid from the night previous, ignoring the side glances that came with her disheveled appearance. Finally, she came to Cristiana’s estate — Lavish and wonderful in its own right — And she smiled familiarly at the single guardsman that stood at the door.
Once she stepped inside, a voice cooed from further into the home, beckoning her in. “Come in, dear.”
The Lady Cristiana sat alone before her breakfast; a silver platter of fruits and a side of wine. She was elegant in a way that Alys could not find words to describe, leading her to doubt the woman had seen a day outside and unattended by servants in the entirety of her life. Her palms were callous-less, her lips red as if stained; she had peculiar eyes, a shade of blue too dark to have been natural, like the ocean’s dark and deepest depths. With that very gaze, she eyed her guest as she entered, and Alys’ own eyes found their way about the room.
Where was Telian?
“Telian is not here?” She blurted, and the woman sitting across the room looked at her with a subtle raise of her brow. For a moment, Alys averted her eyes, feeling self-conscious of not initially greeting her. Something about the woman made one feel critical of oneself, though she could not place why.
“No, he is not,” Cristiana answered, her features returning to her normal neutrality, “He has not for this passed week.” She gave a tilt of her head, the smallest of smiles, lacking of all realness, crossed her lips, “I assumed you had known?”
Alys gave a hesitant shrug. “I…Did.” A surge of panic possessed her for a moment, berating herself for being so willing to trust the kind-faced stranger. How could she know he was not on that. — Thing’s — Side? The blonde little man could have very well taken Telian to his death for all she had known.
As silence slipped by, the woman before her narrowed her eyes upon her, “And where did Telian go?” Cristiana ventured, uncanny eyes noting the faint hints of terror that had crossed the girl’s features. As if to help the other out, she even added with perplexing wisdom, lifting her chalice of wine to her lips, “To find your daughter, I presume?”
Slightly puzzled by the woman’s response, Alys lifted her gaze to her once more, “Yes.” She agreed, and left her answer at that, knowing the rest of the details should be kept private — She did not exactly trust Cristiana, due to her Father’s past with her, and had been taught only to be weary of her ways.
Cristiana smiled once more, looking down into her cup, as if she were watching her own reflection within the fine wine, “Is it not a queer thing that Favian would not be sent in his stead?”
Fidgeting, Alys replied as solemnly as she could, “This is Telian’s task.”
“Mn. I see.” Setting her glass down, Cristiana invited the other to sit with a graceful lift of her arm, her pale clothing drifting from where it was draped over her limbs like curtains against a gentle breeze. Again, she spoke in the silence between them, and with the same insight that Alys had yet to place, “Do not be so openly dissatisfied with him, love. He is foolish and young—“ She met her eyes, “—But he cares about you. He will return.” Alys could not help the puzzled furrowing of her brow; the Lady simply seemed so… Convinced of this. All Alys could seem to manage, for now, was to look down at her hands, fingernails picking nervously at cuticle.
“You worry for your daughter,” Cristiana spoke on, watching her even as her gaze was averted, “I understand.”
Intrigued, Alys lifted her eyes, giving a questioning tilt of head, “You’ve… had children?”
“Mn. Yes.” Cristiana seemed to ponder a moment, looking now towards the window, “A daughter, too.” She smiled, narrowing her eyes upon her, gaze fixed with a peculiar light, “You resemble her, strangely.” Cocking her head as if to make light of the thought, she spoke onward with the echo of a faint hum, “She was strong, and beautiful. But in her youth, she needed many hurts to get there.” Again she leveled her eyes with Alys, “When a child chooses to go, you must let them. Your hand cannot stay what they are bound to learn.”
For a moment after, silence endured; the two as much lost as they were intertwined in their own realms of thought. Something of reminiscent of sadness must have crossed Alys’ features at some point, but these faded away, as next, she spoke into the quiet morning ambiance, “What happened to your daughter?”
This time, Cristiana took a moment to respond, some form of hesitancy hidden behind serene features, “She has made a life for herself, I am certain.” She mused, but her voice fell in the last of her words, “She is very intelligent, like her Father was.”
Realizing what Alys had unintentionally brought up and whatever pain resided there, she immediately moved to apologize, but this was as quickly waved off by the Lady. “Do not apologize, love.” Again, Cristiana spoke as if she were quite certain of something, “But you will see your daughter again, I know this.” She gave a gentle shrug of her shoulders, “Sometimes, in life, our strength is tested.”
A fleeting expression of pain crossed her features, and one that was not from emotional torment; a lift of the woman’s hands informed Alys that something was hurting her, “What is it?”
Cristiana’s hands, where they had rested upon her lap, came forth to gently graze against her abdomen, “I have yet to bear the news…” She shook her head as if in shame, “…These are troubling times.”
It took a minute for Alys to understand, but as soon as she did, her brow raised, and she blinked, “You are… In the family way?” When her question was met with a weak smile, she immediately grinned in half-shock, “Congratulations!” She gasped, though it was clear that she was not quite certain how to handle the news; her pregnancy meant a number of things, after all, including that her brother would soon be a Father, “How… How much longer?”
Frail fingers massaging small circles into her aches, Cristiana murmured her answer, “Only two months or so along, dear.” But even so, the small bump was visible upon her figure. A sight that was more than familiar to Alys; and an illness she could certainly empathize with.
Extending a hand, dark eyes returned to the Lady, “May I?”
Smiling, Cristiana answered, “Of course.”
Her palm slid over the surface of the woman’s thin garment, and a small sigh escaped her as she recollected her own term under such circumstances — It had, truly, been one of the happiest times of her life, despite the physical aches and pains that ensued. The man she had loved had still looked upon her tenderly, and her family had been preparing for celebration; it was a time that had been truly dedicated to her. She often felt so lost… And misplaced, that the attention, at first, was something that she was quite fearful of — But as soon as those troubles had died away, she had been reminded of the one thing that she did have in that time: Familiy.
After her hand withdrew from grazing over the slight bump, she shook her head, “I am… sorry. That is why you were so quick to wed Telian, I just assumed—“
“—That I was a selfish doxy?” Cristiana laughed at the expression that crossed Alys’ features, her chuckle light and fluttering, “It is quite alright, my dear. One tends to be labeled as such by the men that leave her.”
And just like that, as the contact subsided, and the truths of reality returned, the warmth she felt had left her. For her moment, her absence was noted, and Cristiana extended a hand to hold her own, “There is evil in all men, Alys. Fathers leave their children. Men kill. Maim. Steal.” Fingers tightened around her palm, delivering a surprisingly solid squeeze, “Telian is a good man. The same strength flows in you.”
Alys could no longer bear to keep her eyes upon her, and she blinked away the redness that was beginning to form under her lids.
“You are bound to find someone in likeness.”
