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 Posted: Tue Jul 31, 2012 11:58 am
It began a few days ago, when he was flying through the streets of Ashen City with his best friend, his soul mate (previously thought in a merely platonic way, mind you). They weren’t causing trouble, but they were having a grand time, dodging various pedestrians and loop-de-looping around lamp posts, buildings, and signs. After a few hours of this, they paused to have lunch at a favorite little restaurant, where they went all the time. It was nothing out of the ordinary, no, a completely normal day with a normal meal and a pair of normal friends. But something was different.
The fluttering in Cináed’s chest wouldn’t go away. Sure, it was to be expected while flying, while dodging buildings and chasing each other through the streets to the sounds of surprise from various citizens. But just sitting here, eating lunch with a best friend, shouldn’t cause it. He’d frowned softly to himself as he chewed his meal, going quiet. His friend, Ciarán, seemed to notice and leaned forward a little to place himself in Cináed’s field of vision. This startled the cream-haired Orderite, and he blinked out of his cloud of thoughts. “Sorry, I was spacing out,” he murmured, glancing away.
Lately, he couldn’t make himself think of anything other than Ciarán; his dark eyes that seemed so exotic in a world of light colors, his blonde hair that was cut in a cherubic bob and swung about his face when he moved. He’d try his best to redirect his thoughts, unnerved by the way thinking of his friend made him feel, but no matter how much effort he put into it his mind would always backtrack, always return to that friendly, oh so familiar face. But Cináed hadn’t understood what all of this meant until that moment, at lunch, when Ciarán had smiled at him in that slightly mocking way of his. He always did that, especially when he thought Cináed was being silly.
The red-eyed Orderite thought back to the rest of his life, the people he’d loved and liked, and found…none of them to be female. He’d never been terribly close to any women, not like he was close to Ciarán. He’d never been that close with anyone, anyone other than the blonde boy before him. What did this mean? He’d heard other friends talk of the beautiful women they’d seen, their newest crush, always a woman. But Cináed had never fallen for a woman. Granted, he didn’t completely understand the concept of ‘falling’ for someone, but he’d never had any romantic feelings for a woman. There, that worked better.
He pushed these thoughts from his head and returned to simply eating lunch, laughing and gossiping with his best friend about the happenings of Ashen City, about who had stolen from whom, and anything else he could think of to keep his mind away from his feelings.---- He let his head fall into his hand as he sat up, rubbing his eye sockets until they hurt. If only he’d understood then. If only he’d thought a bit more before speaking to Ciarán about it. If only.
But he hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t considered the possible outcomes of revealing his innermost thoughts to his friend. Granted, he had figured that this was his best friend, his closest confidant, and that Ciarán would understand and help him. But he hadn’t considered Ciarán’s feelings, his prejudices, or his judgments. He hadn’t considered the possibility, however small, of Ciarán looking at him like that, like something covered in dirt and deemed indecent. He hadn’t expected the boy, the boy he loved, to get up and walk away with hurt in his eyes. Confusion. Disgust.
He remembered it clearly, precisely, even if it had happened two weeks ago. He’d sought Ciarán out in desperation, in need of someone to talk to about this. It had gone smoothly for a little while, but the dark-eyed Orderite had begun to grow suspicious. And when Cináed mentioned, quietly, that he hadn’t ever felt this way about a woman, Ciarán had gone silent. He’d looked away, face stony and blank, and fidgeted awkwardly as Cináed rambled. I don’t know what this means, or where it came from, but I can’t ignore it. Please understand, my friend. Please just help me understand this. But Ciarán had shaken his head, taken a step back. Cináed had gone quiet, confused, and for the first time in a while, afraid. When Ciarán had finally looked at him, it was with different eyes, different than the warm, loving eyes of a best friend. These were the eyes of a stranger, a person judging another and showing apprehension. I... I don’t know, Cináed, I just don’t know. I didn’t… didn’t expect this from you. How can you feel that way? It’s wrong, Cinaed. I’m a man, Cinaed! The red-eyed male had flinched at the volume increase, eyes widening slightly as his friend shouted at him. The things he said were so hurtful, so mean and nasty and horrible. He had never expected Ciarán, sweet and loving Ciarán, to speak to him this way, let alone anyone. But he had.
Even now, Cináed felt the sting of those words in his chest. He pulled his knees up to his chest and hunched over them, trying to become as small as possible, as small as he felt. He pressed his kneecaps into his eye sockets so hard, so hard, until it hurt. He wanted to feel the pain, a different kind of pain, anything to distract him from the pain in his chest that he didn’t know the source of. It was everywhere, so complete and raw and awful, that he couldn’t pinpoint an origin. His lungs felt weak and deflated, like balloons that no one had bothered to blow up. He didn’t know how to describe anything else, so he didn’t try.
The chirping hadn’t stopped through his entire reverie. He clenched his jaw, gripping his clothed knees tight, and finally lashed out after a few more moments. Whirling, he lunged across the room and slammed his hand against the window pane. The birds squawked, chirping louder and more frantically. Then it went quiet. So, so very quiet. This was almost worse, to be honest. Cináed’s face crumpled, and he inhaled deeply. He needed to distract himself, to think of something else. He grabbed his bow, crafted especially for him, and looked at the front door to his little cottage. A dragon. He could go on a hunt; that would be the perfect distraction! He would need all of his energy to track and kill the thing, which left no room for Ciarán in his head. Perfect.
He rushed out the door, slamming it behind him. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he flew through the streets, headed out of town. But he was smiling, grinning so hysterically that you’d think he was celebrating the birth of his own child. In reality, however, he was so distraught that the idea of a distraction was the greatest thing in the world. He was so distracted, in fact, that he didn’t see the mop of creamy blonde hair, the pale skin, and the dark, exotic eyes of a stranger, looking at him as he flew by. The look in those eyes was familiar again, that of a friend; a loving friend.
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Posted: Mon Dec 31, 2012 1:31 pm
He hadn’t been able to resist. But it wasn’t a selfish acquisition; he didn’t take it because he wanted it. Honestly, he didn’t think he’d be able to get away with it, but figured it was worth a try. It had just been lying there, among its smashed brethren, with only a small singe mark on its shell. Its mother, slain and silent, lay a few yards away. Cináed had not been the one to kill her; no, he was a terrible dragon hunter. This was a Firani drakein, probably not as strong as a Firani dragon, but certainly stronger than the Ysali dragons he was used to losing to. He wouldn’t have stood a chance. There was a split second where the Orderite was jealous of whoever had slain this beast, of the fact that they were no doubt better than him, but he let out a sigh. He couldn’t just put himself down like that; he wasn’t even ready to take on a Firani drakein to begin with. What was she even doing here? Didn’t Firani dragons usually live in the desert? He supposed it didn’t really matter; she wasn’t technically here anymore. But what was he supposed to do now? He…he should just leave it. It would be fine, wouldn’t it? Were dragons social creatures? Besides; an Orderite’s dorm room was no place to be raising a baby keinling. It would destroy everything!
He’d gotten about fifty yards away before his conscience had stabbed him in the heart, and he’d gone back to collect the defenseless egg. He wrapped his arms around it and waddled through the forest, keeping a careful watch for others that would try to take it. Eventually he decided that it was too much work to walk with the big egg, and so he flew through the trees. He took the long way home, slipping in through his window to avoid the guards and the headmaster. He would have to figure out how to talk to the headmaster about it, because this was quite the unusual thing to bring back to the dormitory. He wasn’t even sure if it was allowed, but he couldn’t have just left it there! Surely the headmaster would understand?
It was a few days later, and Cináed had arranged a meeting with the headmaster. He had to tell them; if he hid the egg until it hatched, and if it ended up being discovered, it would be much worse than it would have been if he had simply told them about it. As he approached the headmaster’s office with the egg, cradling the large thing in his arms, he avoided the strange looks he got. It wasn’t every day you saw a person carrying around a drakein egg, but did they have to gawk at him like that? He offered a few rude sneers at them before disappearing into the headmaster’s office.
It had gone…better than he’d expected, to be honest. He’d been anticipating the headmaster to yell at him, to tell him to get rid of the thing right away, but…that wasn’t what had happened. He’d actually been allowed to keep it! He could hardly believe it; he could really keep it? He hadn’t explicitly been preparing himself to get rid of it, but he hadn’t gotten attached to it, either. But now he supposed that he could. It could be his own little pet! He’d think of the size issue later; for now, he was too excited about having a drakein of his very own. He grinned down at the egg, seeing his muted reflection in its shell; everything was tinted a bright cranberry red. “What should I name you?” He asked, rubbing at the little burn mark. He didn’t even know what gender it was going to be. Well, that was certainly a problem. He frowned slightly as he made his way back to his room, setting the egg down on his bed with a relieved sigh. He stared at the thing for a while, crossing his arms. He supposed he didn’t have to decide on a name right now, but it would be best to not just call it “you” whenever he talked to it. It could hear him, right? He needed something that could be a boy’s name or a girl’s name.
After a while, Cináed’s face broke out into a wide grin. “Saraph. I’ll call you Saraph.”
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Posted: Mon Dec 31, 2012 2:25 pm
[Cinaed's handwriting is tilted but reasonably neat, as if he writes very quickly and with a lot of emotion.]
Well, I went to that winter festival by the lake today. It was certainly an interesting experience, if a very, very cold one. I met a hybrid named Maslin, who was rather sensitive, but I suppose he has reason to be. He said that hybrids weren't generally welcome in the cities, which kind of surprised me. I had always thought of Orderites as pretty accepting, but maybe I'm just blind? I mean, I know that I have my issues, and I'm not saying that I'm always accepting of new or different things, but I try my best. Honestly, I think hybrids are interesting. I think they might even be better off, ability-wise, because they have the influences of two races. For example, Maslin could easily have the magic of a Dovaa and an Orderite's ability to fly. I'm a little jealous, actually! I wish I had skills in magic. Then I could tap into those Aedaun dragons.
But it was great to meet some different people; I've been stuck in my classes with the same people for so long, it was really refreshing to see some new faces. I'll have to get out more. I like meeting new people. Maybe I can even find another archer someday!
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Posted: Fri Jan 04, 2013 5:32 pm
It was a cold winter day as Cináed trudged up to his mentor’s house through the snow. His breath curled in the air in front of his face as he huffed and puffed. He supposed that he could be flying right now, but the amount of body heat he would lose through his wings was too much to warrant using them. Besides, his destination was not that far from the school’s dormitory. He pulled his thick winter coat tighter around his face and neck as he neared Latora’s cottage, his nose and ears burning red with cold. He knocked frantically on the hard wooden door, and was soon ushered inside by a warm blanket and a cup of cider. He nearly fell into a wooden chair on his way in, but thankfully landed safely on its cushion. “Drink it, you’ll warm up quick,” a calm voice murmured, and Cináed looked to see his archery mentor, Latora, standing near the stove. She was stirring something, probably soup judging by the warm, salty smell, and drinking a mug of cider of her own.
After a few minutes of simply sitting there and warming himself, Cináed glanced across the table at the older woman and frowned slightly in confusion. “So why did you call me here in this weather? It’s absolutely freezing outside. I have better things to do than sit here and reminisce with you,” he chirped, his lips stretching into a smirk. They had a very casual sort of relationship, but it was a love-hate one as well. They regularly spoke cynically to each other, full of snark and sarcasm. Neither thought much of it; it was simply the mesh of their personalities that seemed to get along so well. The female Orderite turned her bright green eyes toward him, before glancing off to her left.
“Well, I figure it’s time you took the next step in your training,” she sighed, her own lips twisting with mischief. Cináed frowned at his mentor, confused, before he followed her gaze. He saw only a curtain, but when she canted her head and signaled for him to go toward it, he got up and did just that. What was so special about a curtain? Sure, it was probably whatever was behind it, but what could she have in her home that he would need (other than food, of course)? As he pulled the rich purple fabric aside, his garnet eyes widened and he went very still. Was she serious?
Just there, a few feet away from him, were a selection of bows. But these weren’t just any bows. Modeled with a dragon’s hide in mind, they had talons and scales, even wings, all carved into the wood. These were special bows, especially for advanced students. He cast a disbelieving look over his shoulder at Latora, who only smirked and sipped her cider. Cináed couldn’t believe this. She really thought he was ready? His face broke out into a wide grin as he stepped closer to the beautiful weapons, his fingers gliding along each in turn. But there was one that stood out from the others, one that he could simply feel was made just for him. It seemed to thrum in his hands, pulsing with power. He let out a soft chuckle and turned to Latora, who had gotten up to get a box for the bow. Cináed picked up the matching quiver, with its feathered arrows stuffed inside, and turned to her again. He was so thrilled by this turn of events; he was ready to take the next step in his training! He would become a great archer, like Latora, and like his grandfather. He was ready.
“This one. I want this one.”
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Posted: Thu Jan 10, 2013 1:31 pm
It had started out as an ordinary day. Cináed woke slowly in the morning despite his alarm clock, rubbing sleepily at his eyes and groaning as he rolled over onto his stomach to fight the bright light streaming in through a crack in his curtains. He wasn’t ready to get up. He didn’t want to learn about useless things today (even if they really weren’t that useless in the scheme of things). He frowned deeply as he finally sat up in bed, his bright platinum blond hair sticking out in all directions and his red eyes clouded with sleep. He yawned and stretched his arms up over his head, then simply sat there smacking his lips for a few moments. Did he really have to get up? Was there any way he could get a bit more sleep and still be on time? No, not according to his clock; he’d already pushed it as far as he could get away with. Unfortunately, this now meant that he needed to hurry. That sounded next to impossible with the fog still clouding his brain.
But the slightest, softest sound reached his ears. He perked up a little and listened closely in the silence of his bedroom; what was that? It almost sounded like someone stepping on gravel, a soft crunching sound mixed with little taps. Was someone trying to pick his lock? Cináed frowned, slowly crawling out of bed. But as soon as his feet hit the ground, he saw what it really was. The large red egg sitting in the corner of his bedroom, amid a bed of blankets, had a small hole in it. He cautiously drew closer to the orb, inspecting the hole in the shell. Was it hatching? His pulse jumped when he peered into the hole and saw a bright amber eye staring back at him. He scrambled back, nearly falling onto his rear end in the process, and braced himself on the bedpost. Crap, this was actually happening! What was he supposed to do!? He wasn’t prepared to be taking care of a baby drakein! What did it eat? Did it need milk or something? Did it eat only live things? He watched the egg as it slowly began to crack, before the creature inside pushed the top off and blinked blearily in the light of the room.
It was…actually quite cute, really. Its eyes were too big for its face, and the tiny wings on its back were most likely useless at this point. But it was still relatively large, as if it had been very cramped inside that egg, and Cináed’s thinking was correct. The little beast stretched its neck and wings, its smooth tail curling up over the side of what remained of the eggshell, and it made a little noise as it looked at him. Cináed took a step closer, holding out a hand carefully for the little keinling to scent. “Uh, hello Saraph… Can you understand me?” He asked, at which he received a slight tilt of the head as the creature regarded him. He wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Saraph,” Cináed pointed to the dragon, trying to teach it its name. “I am Cináed,” he said, placing a hand on his chest, “Cináed. Understand?” The drakein was silent for a moment, before giving a small little gurgle and shifting in the egg. It seemed to weigh a bit more than it thought, and when the remaining egg cracked and the beast went falling forward onto the floor, it squealed. It gave a small hiccup and spouted off a small ember, which singed the hem of Cináed’s pajama pants. The Orderite cried out and took a step back, which made Saraph look up at him with what looked like a mixture of fright and apology. Cináed let out a sigh and brushed off his pants, and patted Saraph’s head reassuringly. “It’s okay, Saraph. It was an accident… Now, what do you eat?”
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Posted: Thu Jan 10, 2013 5:51 pm
The appointment had been made a few days ago, and he had thoroughly prepared for it, but Cináed could not fight the knot of anxiety in his gut. This was Aevah Avi, the leader of the entire Orderite race, and he was supposed to speak with her. He had heard rumors that she was very nice, sure, but authority figures had always struck a bit of apprehension in him. It wasn’t that he thought he was always going to get in trouble, but rather that he was not going to do something right and they would punish him. Surely such a bright, friendly leader wouldn’t do that, right? He would just have to be on his best behavior.
So, in order to ensure this, he had entrusted Saraph to a friend for the afternoon. He’d provided her with all the food she’d need to feed the little dragon for the afternoon, along with some durable gloves that would resist and accidental embers. The girl had been anxious, but knew that Cináed was really putting his faith in her. This was an important day for him, and she’d squashed down her apprehension for the sake of Cináed’s success. After all, this day would be the defining moment when he would be allowed to become an Adept student of the Citadel. “Please, please, please let this go right!” He thought.
Cináed knocked softly on one of the large doors before him, and then wondered if he should have done so with more force. Would she have heard it? Slowly, however, the large doors split and opened to allow him in, and Cináed was granted with the appearance of two guards that held the large pieces of wood and metal open. The inside of the room was grand to say the least, done up in all light, pastel colors and silver accents. There was a large desk up a few small stairs in the center of the rear of the room, and Cináed looked around at all the books on the shelves, as well as the various trinkets and treasures that sat upon delicate tables. Behind this desk was perhaps the most beautiful woman that young Cináed had ever seen. Pale skin, silver-white curls spilling over her shoulders and down her back, and soft lavender eyes lined with thick lashes drew the young Orderite’s attention right to her. This was the leader of the Orderites, Aevah Avi, and when she finished writing something on a scroll, she looked up and smiled warmly at him. “Good afternoon, Cináed,” she chirped, her voice soft and high. She stood slowly, her sparkling robes billowing as she moved and her large white wings folded behind her back.
“Ah, um, g-good afternoon,” Cináed stumbled, feeling as if his tongue was swollen. He’d been nervous before, but after seeing how absolutely beautiful she was, he was only more so. He swallowed thickly, but Aevah seemed to be able to sense his anxiety and reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. “Calm yourself. I don’t bite,” she let out a soft giggle and then looked at him expectantly, but there was a small sparkle of excitement in her friendly gaze. “What have you brought me?” She asked, at which Cináed promptly and clumsily dug in his satchel for the soul orbs he’d been instructed to bring. He held out his palm and gave her one bright green orb, a Ysali soul, and one soft gray orb, an Ayrala orb. Aevah’s eyes brightened as she plucked them from Cináed’s palm, and she took a step away to look at them in the light.
“I always like seeing the different orbs that my students bring me, it’s always a surprise!” She glanced at him again, which made Cináed fidget anxiously. Would they be sufficient? Would he need to get different ones? What if he needed more?
“I see you’ve chosen your weapon: the bow. A good choice, I think, for you,” she said, smiling at the grand weapon strapped across Cináed’s back. The red-eyed boy blushed, and mumbled and ‘thank you’ before eyeing the souls in his leader’s hand again. Aevah grinned and closed her fingers around the two orbs, turning to Cináed and crossing her arms. “I believe this will do, young Cináed. Go and tell your instructors that I have deemed you ready to move on with your studies.” Cináed broke into a wide grin, and nearly leapt into the air with joy. She had said he was ready! He could move on! Aevah laughed at the obvious joy in her student’s eyes, and Cináed didn’t even blush. “Work hard, Cináed. I look forward to seeing you again,” she said, and drifted airily back to her desk.
“Th-thank you! Thank you, Lady Avi!” Cináed nearly ran from the room, and as soon as he was sure that the Orderite leader could no longer see him, he broke into a fast flight and cried out in joy. Now he could get even stronger! "Yes!!"
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Posted: Fri Jan 11, 2013 10:21 am
The simply envelope had come as a bit of a surprise to Cináed. He held it in his hand gently, frowning at the extremely familiar script written in dark violet ink on the front of it. His name was there, curling and elegant in its shape, and he knew exactly who had written it: Ciarán. His heart ached at the mere thought of his best friend, and he rubbed at his cheek and eyes with a groan. He swallowed thickly, sort of dreading what this letter could contain, but decided that he would never know if he just stared at it. He needed to open it. With slow, trembling fingers, he pried apart the wax seal (with a very familiar stamp of a pair of wings), pulled out the parchment inside, and unfolded it. He scratched at his prickly cheek as he began to read, brows drawn together. What did Ciarán have to say?
Dear Cináed,
How are you? I know that our last meeting was tense, to say the least, and I apologize. But I still consider you a dear friend, and I do worry about you. But I suppose that’s my fault for refusing to see you for such a long time; I brought this worry upon myself. I do want to apologize for my reaction. It was terrible, cold, and heartless. I am sorry, my friend. I should have just listened to you, talked with you. Perhaps we both could have come to understand our feelings and our doubts, if only we had talked like rational people about it. But can you blame me for being surprised? I had never expected you to feel such things. I was young, naïve; I didn’t know anything about that part of life.
I do want to see you again. I miss my friend, my closest confidant and companion. Even my mother has begun to miss you, walking about the house with a certain air of depression, and will occasionally ask of you. But every time I reply with nothing, she frowns and scolds me. How could I just stop talking to you? I don’t know, I don’t understand what made me hide like such a coward. I’m sorry.
Now, I understand if you’d rather not have anything to do with me. I was terrible to you, saying the things I did, but I am truly full of regret about all of them. I want to make things right; I want my best friend back. So, I ask of you, if you would meet me at the café we last saw each other at. I will be there on Saturday, at noon, and I hope that you will join me. If you do not, I will assume that you don’t want to see me again. And that would be perfectly fine and understandable, if heartbreaking.
I wish you the best, Cináed, with all my heart.
Ciarán
Cináed was quiet for a long moment when he finished reading, his thumb brushing over the dark violet signature. When they had been very young, they’d practiced making them flourished and fancy like their parents’ signatures, and Ciarán’s was nothing short of elegant. He would still see the boy’s pale face frowning at him, looking at him with disgust, however. That sent a pang of doubt through his heart, and he let out a sigh. Should he go? His first instinct was to decline. Ciarán had hurt him so deeply, so profoundly; why should he give him a second chance? But he was still his oldest friend; that’s why. Cináed let out a heavy, exasperated sigh. Saturday at noon. He would go.
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