EU || Their Memories of Happiness

The cool, nearly chilly water that brushed against her unprotected belly was nothing compared to the horror at seeing herself—younger and far less traumatized, but far more hopeful—in a place where she had no right to be. It didn't matter if this place was supposed to allow her entrance to the Caregiver clan, she couldn't allow herself the weakness of indulging her younger self. 

Her thoughts posed no threat as her smaller body came up to Karyss, a small and frightened, but no less welcoming smile on her scarless face. “You're ok… Don't block me out, please? I'm just going to show you what you've missed in the years you've been gone.”

And with no warning at all, her gaze meets her younger eyes and she's dragged into the water, pulled into her memories while her younger watches with a saddened smile. It was a happy memory, but it was the last that she had before throwing herself into a world of thievery and survival in a world she wasn't trained for.

Karyss groans as she sits up, blue eyes fluttering open before her focus sharpens on the sand between her toes. She flexes them, claws curling until they disappear and suddenly cool once out of the sun's unbearable heat. She huffs for a moment, yelping when she's pinned down by an over-excited Vayron that was watched by an amused Tyrian not far behind.

“Karyss! Did you mean to nap in the sand like a lizard?” The voice that knocked into her asked, purple eyes bright and youthful. Just barely older than a pup. A new adult, like herself.

Karyss doesn't have time to reply when the Tyrian arrives and picks the purple Vayron up off of her. 

“Kalama, I don't think knocking her over into the sand was a smart idea, considering she's supposed to remain clean for the temples.” The Tyrian rumbles fondly, huffing as he drops her down beside Karyss.

Karyss rolls her eyes as Kalama whines, a small smile building on her face no matter how she tries to hide it. “Don't try to stop her, Lion. You know she'll just do it again at a later time.”

The Tyrian grunts, rolling his stormy blue eyes before the arrow-shaped pupils focus on her, thinning until they are black lines in his eyes. “You reek of darkness, Karyss. Were you aware?”

“Emlien! Don't just say that!” Kalama whines, pouting as she plops into a sitting position, hind legs jutting out in front of her.

He shrugs, leaning down to nudge Kalama until she rolls onto her side before he lowers and puts his head on her side, effectively protecting her belly and heart. Karyss grimaces at the sight, but relaxes in knowing her sister would be well cared for after she leaves the temple to explore Vitalus.

“I'm aware,” Karyss admits quietly, her head dipping in Emlien's direction. “And I have told you where that darkness comes from. It will not leave because it stains my soul in ways many can't comprehend.” In a quieter voice, she adds, “I cannot help who I am born to or who raises me. But I am free of him now, with a better family.”

Kalama beams, eyes shining like birthing universes. Emlien lifts his head enough to lower it in acceptance to her words before returning to its perch on Kalama’s side. Relief floods her and she smiles, relaxing as her toes flex into the sand once again. 

Outside of the pools, Haedians watch the memory through a separate one, their gaze focused. It appeared as though this Vayron had changed much from who she used to be from when she had been open and apparently religious, to closed off and turning her eyes away from the temple. How she survived the Order, they wouldn't know, but it proved an inner strength that remained even from the past. 

These mystery Reoseans, however, appeared to be a weak spot for the puller. One turns their gaze from the pool to Karyss, watching absently as she floats in the pool with closed eyes and a relaxed appearance. Different from the brash look from before, rough with time. How much had she changed?

In the peace of the pool, Damocles phases from the trials he has endured to the joys his growth brought him. The watching eyes bothered him little, a strange comfort of the caregivers putting him at ease. Through seeing himself so young and inexperienced, he felt a moment of bittersweetness at how old he’d become. I missed his youth and freedom, especially the early days of meeting Ichramus. The jarl was still a young lad when he first met Damocles and the two worked together to prove themselves to their guild superiors. It was with Ichramus that Damocles traversed the dark tunnels and gazed into the Eyes.

Their banter held a firm place in Damocles’ heart. Banter they’d exchanged before he’d left to the depths. Two different personalities to complement each other. His wandering thoughts were caught by the magical pool and he once more sunk under. Except this time, he was in his own body. Young and spry, but it was his own.

Damocles and Ichramus had only just returned from fending the town against a pack of beasts. The young man and his vayron both looking ruffled and spent, but still holding their heads high when the town flooded to meet them on their way back. Ichramus sat on Damocles’ back, a dirty spear in his hand, his not-yet grey hair falling ina few strands over his forehead. Damocles was donned in light leather tack, the sweat underneath his battered armor a tad uncomfortable, but apart from that he was well. The two were capable in a fight, and a force to be reckoned with when put together. United, their strength is sure to only rise with teamwork they’ve honed since their first ride together. Ichram trusted Damocles to take him where he needs to be, and Damocles counts on Ichram to be his eyes where he cannot see. Their mental connection blossomed early into their bond thanks to this quickly found trust.

“Well done you two!” One of the townsfolk spoke up, and the rest joined. Praise and thanks rained on the two of them from the people that relied on them for protection in this time of trouble.

Damocles glanced back at Ichram, who smiled back at him. Pride swelled in both their chests as the town followed them on their way to the jarl’s keep. At the door waited the man himself. Ichram’s father smiled and nodded approvingly at his son’s and his mount’s job well done.

"That was so bad at all,” Damocles spoke to Ichram through their mental connection.

"I could get used to this,” Ichram replied with a hint of smugness in his tone, but his Vayron nipped at him.“

Paragon of humility, you are.” Damocles jested and Ichram laughed aloud. “We should all follow in the example of Ichram the Great!”

“Oh, shut it you,” Ichram kicked Damocles’ side, and the vayron whipped his tail in return.

“Come, both of you,” the jarl called out, “Tell me all about your victory inside. I would know of the threat we have deterred today.” The jarl beckoned with a ringed hand before stepping inside his keep.

Ichram dismounted his vayron and gave some king replies to the townsfolk as they flocked to him. Many thanks and glad-you’re-wells were exchanged between the people and him. Despite his bit of smugness of his inheritance to become jarl, Ichram loved his people and wished them nothing but the best. It showed clear in his eyes as he spoke to them all. Finally, the jarl’s voice called out again, and Ichram was pulled away by Damocles. The young man headed inside, with Damocles following suit.

The feeling of pride was so deeply rooted from that day, that Damocles never quite let go of it. The act of protecting his people, and strengthening his bond with his rider became paramount to him in life. Same building of bonds he has experienced all over again here, with Karyss and Prophet. And since that day, he’d become the guarding pillar in the town, all throughout Jarl Ichram’s rule to present day. His place as guide in his guild was an additional responsibility given to him by the Keeper himself on his day of trial, further solidifying his place in Hjaalfing. The Vayron’s life was long, and there was plenty of time left still to carry out his duties, and see this journey to its end and whatever his companions would bring onto it as well. Damocles’ determination stemmed from the request made by his friend, and to serve his guild. To them, he was eternally loyal. Damocles never believed he would build new bonds, but with the two strangers he met here in the depths, he’s felt almost young again. Going on adventures, guiding Karyss, protecting her and prophet, and trusting in their capabilities.

The hooded caregivers watched his day of victory unfold from their mirrored pool. Damocles’ happiness, trust, pride, and sense of responsibility all laid bare for the Haedians to assess amongst themselves. What came from a rowdy young boy, and how he grew up into a responsible guardian and friend, to his older days, still serving his town in the rising events of present day. And how unexpected meetings would develop into something he would recall for years to come.

Prophet still wasn’t sure what she was going to be in for. She certainly wasn’t prepared for the rush of excitement she’d stepped into. It was many moons ago, and certainly when her bones ached less in the wintertime. She was wearing a fine arrangement of pale silks, white against her thick red pelt and done up in the Warrenfall style, and a fine selection of jewelry and intricate filigree. She’d braided daisies in her hair earlier that morning, with the help of her little nephew, Damien. He’d done a good job. 

The fields behind her and Callista’s cabin had been transformed from the lush green into a throng of murmuring reoseans and delicious plates of food that were covered to keep the insects away. The faces of many were blurred out as they were lined up in neat, orderly rows, as it had been many seasons past. She still could pick some faces out from the crowd. Miskunn. Rhea. Themis. Old friends.

She swore she saw Damocles and Karyss, chatting and looking rather uncharacteristically dressed and jolly. But then she blinked, and their faces and forms melted away into less defined blobs. How odd. 

But she wasn’t here to look through the crowd, no. She was self-conscious, up there by the arch of flowers, alone. Well, alone except for a rather lovely runner named Quinnie. An old friend she’d nearly forgotten about. Quinnie caught her eye, gave her a soft smile. 

 You’ll be alright.

 Prophet stared at her paws and took a deep breath. She hoped so. Her heart was just about to pound out of her throat. She couldn’t remember the last time she was this nervous. 

 Then she looked up.

 She saw her.

 Not for very long. Callista was soon blurred to a dark blue smudge in Prophet’s vision. But it didn’t matter how blurry she was. She was gorgeous. She’d finally taken to Prophet’s nagging and plaited her tail with silver strands. Similar white silks fluttered around her, though done up in the more intricate style of Roenden weaving, with delicate knots and patterns done in it. Every step she took, she looked like a piece of Nyx’ night sky, down on Reos, living and breathing.

 She was divine.

 She made her way up slowly, through the crowd. Awkwardly. She tried not to catch anyone’s gaze, but looked straight ahead. Eyes on her prize.

 Callista brushed against Prophet as she made her way to the front, and sat next to her. Though normally a serious vay with a handle on her emotions, Callista couldn’t help but tear up. There was a glint in her eye, one that Prophet’d seen very rarely before.

 “Look at all these people,” Callista muttered, “They came here to look at us.”

 “I know, right?” Prophet laughed, “Isn’t that strange?” She swept her gaze over the crowd, once more catching figures she knew couldn’t be there. A handful of haedians, and of course– Damocles and Karyss in the front. Damocles looked solemn. Karyss just smirked, faking a gag.

 Prophet rolled her eyes. Even when she wasn’t physically there, Karyss somehow found a way to intrude on her special moments. How rude.

 She suppressed a laugh as she turned back to her bonded-to-be. She tenderly pressed her nose against Callista’s, “It’s the start of a new chapter, my love.”

 The dark runner growled affectionately, “I can’t wait to spend every bit of it with you.”

 “I’ll never let you go, my dear,” she responded, voice cracking with emotion.

 Her tender heart swelled in her chest. She felt dreamy, airy, light. She felt like she would burst from the overflowing feeling. Here, on her day. Their day, surrounded by so many friends. So many loved ones. So how could she let her go?

 The image of the happy day swirled and warped, and in an instant, illusion shattered. She was brought back to the underground pool, gasping for air. The joy she felt was replaced by heartache, longing, sorrow. How could she abandon her like that? When she- she promised…

 Prophet shook her head as she looked over to the more relaxed forms of Karyss and Damocles. At the very least, it would be all over soon. Maybe then, the homesickness would abate. She could only hope.