Post by Raga on Nov 13, 2010 22:49:55 GMT -5
((For reference's sake, this first scene is actually set during a time shortly before the quakes and elemental disturbances began. This isn't so much a story as a set of scenes to help me get back into my characters' heads.))
Raga had been hearing wolves in her dreams for over a month. She'd thought at first it had to do with spending so much time in the Stonetalons, near the ruins of what had once been her home, near the cave where she and Ayusta had nearly died and, in surviving, had cobbled together the beginnings of forgiveness. Surely the ghost howls in Raga's sleep were a warning she was dwelling too much on the past yet again.
Ayusta apparently agreed.
"What are you doing?" Ayusta's form whispered from cat to Tauren. She loomed over the spot where Raga sat with her back against a sun-warmed boulder.
"Drinking!" Raga held her flask out to Ayu. "You want some?"
Ayu's lip curled, but the expression was nothing like the venomous sneers Ayu had once directed at Raga. A traditional mother and daughter they would never be, but it was good not to have her only living child trying to kill her. Ayu waved the flask away and settled onto the ground near--but not too near--Raga. Dust curled into the air before settling again onto the stony ground.
"Why are you here," Ayu asked. "Instead of at the Crossroads or in Northrend or… I don't know. Anywhere but here?"
It was a valid question. Raga answered it with a shrug and a long, burning pull from the flask of bourbon. The Lich King was dead. The largest of the world's pressing problems was solved. How to explain the emptiness the knowledge left in the pit of Raga's stomach? It was over, people kept saying. Raga wasn't stupid enough to believe there were no more battles left to fight--she more or less lived at the Crossroads, after all.
But this battle was over--this one last enemy linked to the smaller, more personally devastating battle that had years ago left Raga a widow and bereft mother. The Lich King's defeat was the final scene in a story Raga hadn't quite realized she hadn't finished just yet. "Do you suppose it ever stops hurting?" Raga had once asked Davien. The Forsaken mage's gentle pat on Raga's arm had been more answer than any words ever could be.
Beside Raga, Ayusta heaved a sigh and fidgeted, her hooves scuffling the loose rock. In a rare moment of selfless clarity, Raga understood that it was as difficult for Ayu to be here as it was for Raga. Maybe more, since Raga at least had memories for company. Ayu had no recollection of the village she'd been born to, or the family that had died before she could know them.
Raga put the cap on her flask and set it on the ground beside her. She pointed down the slope to the overgrown clearing below.
"The main fire was there," she said, "just where that pile of rocks is now."
Ayu grew still and looked where Raga was pointing.
"Your father…" Grief welled into her throat, surprisingly strong given the years since his death. Raga had few occasions to tell stories of her past, and less willingness to do so. But from the corner of her eye, she saw Ayu look toward her.
Past time for these stories to be told. Ayu needed to hear them. And maybe Raga needed to tell them, too.
"Your father and and my brothers and I, when we were young…"
Raga had been hearing wolves in her dreams for over a month. She'd thought at first it had to do with spending so much time in the Stonetalons, near the ruins of what had once been her home, near the cave where she and Ayusta had nearly died and, in surviving, had cobbled together the beginnings of forgiveness. Surely the ghost howls in Raga's sleep were a warning she was dwelling too much on the past yet again.
Ayusta apparently agreed.
"What are you doing?" Ayusta's form whispered from cat to Tauren. She loomed over the spot where Raga sat with her back against a sun-warmed boulder.
"Drinking!" Raga held her flask out to Ayu. "You want some?"
Ayu's lip curled, but the expression was nothing like the venomous sneers Ayu had once directed at Raga. A traditional mother and daughter they would never be, but it was good not to have her only living child trying to kill her. Ayu waved the flask away and settled onto the ground near--but not too near--Raga. Dust curled into the air before settling again onto the stony ground.
"Why are you here," Ayu asked. "Instead of at the Crossroads or in Northrend or… I don't know. Anywhere but here?"
It was a valid question. Raga answered it with a shrug and a long, burning pull from the flask of bourbon. The Lich King was dead. The largest of the world's pressing problems was solved. How to explain the emptiness the knowledge left in the pit of Raga's stomach? It was over, people kept saying. Raga wasn't stupid enough to believe there were no more battles left to fight--she more or less lived at the Crossroads, after all.
But this battle was over--this one last enemy linked to the smaller, more personally devastating battle that had years ago left Raga a widow and bereft mother. The Lich King's defeat was the final scene in a story Raga hadn't quite realized she hadn't finished just yet. "Do you suppose it ever stops hurting?" Raga had once asked Davien. The Forsaken mage's gentle pat on Raga's arm had been more answer than any words ever could be.
Beside Raga, Ayusta heaved a sigh and fidgeted, her hooves scuffling the loose rock. In a rare moment of selfless clarity, Raga understood that it was as difficult for Ayu to be here as it was for Raga. Maybe more, since Raga at least had memories for company. Ayu had no recollection of the village she'd been born to, or the family that had died before she could know them.
Raga put the cap on her flask and set it on the ground beside her. She pointed down the slope to the overgrown clearing below.
"The main fire was there," she said, "just where that pile of rocks is now."
Ayu grew still and looked where Raga was pointing.
"Your father…" Grief welled into her throat, surprisingly strong given the years since his death. Raga had few occasions to tell stories of her past, and less willingness to do so. But from the corner of her eye, she saw Ayu look toward her.
Past time for these stories to be told. Ayu needed to hear them. And maybe Raga needed to tell them, too.
"Your father and and my brothers and I, when we were young…"