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Post by Blubber-Bun on Jun 13, 2018 23:00:40 GMT -6
Burning Bridges Jemin & Aisling
After the events of Chapter V & Jailbreak Valley of Melodies Midday |
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Post by Blubber-Bun on Jun 13, 2018 23:06:06 GMT -6
“Keep your damn chin up - get that neck straight!”
It was hot.
It was always hot in the desert, but today’s relentless weather crossed the fine line from pleasant into sweltering. The valley chasm, draped in shades of beige and rust-red below a blue, blue sky, wavered through the heat’s lense. He tipped back the contents of his flask, relieving his parched throat, but quite nearly snorted it back out when yet another issue arose.
“Honestly, Primrose - we oughta get you some books to balance on your head.”
Jemin’s tone was not harsh; his fondness for the kid was made evident by a lack of true bitterness or mockery (which was surely what anyone else would receive). Having retired both himself and his violin to the canyon’s shade - he lounged there now, his instrument propped up against his flank - he watched contentedly as his young protégée fixed her posture.
… well, he liked to think she was a protégée. Her flute ripped loose a particularly shrill squeak, prompting him to wince inwardly. The reflex was immediately followed by an encouraging nod.
They’d made significant progress, by any rate. Primrose was learning with alarming (nay, impressive) speed and deftness.
P #1 | WC 202
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Post by fynli on Jun 15, 2018 15:24:45 GMT -6
= Aisling =
1 | 319The distant sound of a shrill flute was hard to miss.
Aisling had been scouring the canyon for her daughter, worry overshadowing her fatigue and sending her into overdrive. She knew who Primrose was with and while she trusted that man to look after her daughter, she didn’t trust what propaganda he’d feed to her. The further he strayed Prim away from her side, the more she worried. Aisling had wanted nothing more than a burden free life among the Serorans… but trouble always followed.
Aisling cursed them for it.
The anger had drained and only left a tired mind in its wake, the exhaustion of life’s strife getting to her. So as she made her way to where the two playing hooky lay, she couldn’t summon the energy to be truly angry.
“Primrose,” her voice was firm as she called out, even though the filly’s sharp hearing had picked up her mother’s approaching hoofsteps earlier. The child cast a forlorn look at her mentor, almost unwilling to leave his teachings so soon but her mother’s command was stronger. Aisling watched with a steady eye as Prim packed up her belongings and trotted to her mother. She was given a gentle kiss on the head before Aisling ushered her behind her.
“You are to never be seen with my child again, Jemin.” Aisling’s voice came out low, a warning laced behind her words. “I don’t know what game you think you’re playing at helping enemies but I want none of that around Primrose.” The hurt of his betrayal shone clear in her eyes as she stared at him, wondering just what he was thinking. Alcaeus had said she could trust him and Primrose clearly enjoyed his presence but after his stunt with the jailbreak… She couldn’t look at him the same.
“Let’s go,” she muttered to her daughter, turning away from the fiddler and ushering Prim under her wing.
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Post by Blubber-Bun on Jun 16, 2018 11:51:13 GMT -6
J E M I N
He had been unabashedly avoiding Aisling for some time now, uneager to hear whatever lecture she may have prepared.
Of course he could never stay hidden forever.
The Aquorian woman's soft-lined silhouette appeared now, turning the canyon's bend with a stern edge to her typically gentle voice. Jemin scrambled to his feet. "At least we got you off the leash for a little bit, kid," he remarked dryly, casting Primrose an apologetic look as she hurried to obey her mother.
Quick and narrow-eyed (no longer apologetic, as he had no regrets -he told himself he didn't regret it), he met Aisling's gaze. Her words stung more than he cared to admit.
Condemnation was the only consequence to his most recent scandal. Cruel gossip and anonymous disapproval - he could deal with those. He was accustomed to it, could brush it off with a simple laugh.
But to face the sheer betrayal in her eyes? That was different.
Aisling was kind - kinder than he deserved, surely too kind to do this - and he attempted to brush it off as well. "Ah... ah, ha. You know, I never took you for the joking type, Aisling, but you almost got me there - "
She took her daughter under her wing and turned to leave.
They walked away, just like that.
A pang of indignation spurred him into action. He didn't want to beg for forgiveness - he refused to - but he didn't wish to lose this without a word of his own, either. Hopping his violin, Jemin followed at Aisling's heels.
"Enemies? Not what you called them before, I bet. You raised Primrose around them - I didn't bring her into anything you haven't already." His tone bordered the sardonic, picking at and snagging any ironies.
P #2 | WC 289
Jemin - Serora - The Folk |
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Post by fynli on Jun 16, 2018 15:06:25 GMT -6
= Aisling =
2 | 289She didn’t look back, moving forward with a brisk pace and keeping Prim close to her side. Prim’s gait was hesitant beside her, her tiny body brushing against her mother’s flank. She didn’t understand what was going on and Aisling had never wanted her to be confronted with this.
Jemin’s words made her halt. The sharp edge in his voice pricked her skin and by the gods if he wasn’t a literal thorn in her side. His words dug deep, tore into something she’d longed to keep buried with the promise of a new life. She pinned her ears back, swinging around to face him.
“They were my friends, my family. I loved all of them Jemin but they stood for something I could not.” Aisling’s voice came out strained, her throat tightening with anguish. “They called for blood and death. One of them killed a child and you let them free!” The tone of her voice turned hushed, instinctively pulling Primrose closer. Her poor daughter. She’d wanted nothing more than for her little Prim to grow up without the burden of ever knowing where her mother came from. What they had stood for. Serora was supposed to be peaceful.
“I left because I never wanted her to be involved in that massacre. I wanted her to grow up where she could be safe.” There was a pleading look in her eyes as she stared at Jemin, untold horrors replaying in her mind. “You don’t understand what they did and you never will.”
She looked back at Primrose, immediately knowing the filly had heard everything by how round her eyes were. Prim looked between her mother and Jemin, unsure of what to exactly think now. Was it all true?
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Post by Blubber-Bun on Jun 20, 2018 18:23:55 GMT -6
J E M I N
That had certainly hit a sore spot.
As she abruptly halted and whirled upon him, her feathers ruffled like quills, he skidded to a halt. By this point, a better man would stand down - would lower their voice and reflect on their decisions.
But that would be a wiser choice for a wiser person and Jemin was not inclined towards either. He didn't want to lose them - didn't want to screw this up and yet that was what he continued to do, whether due to defensiveness or sheer pettiness.
Or perhaps he didn't want to admit his attachment to the gentle mare and her round-eyed child.
He pulled the figurative knife from her back - just for a moment, just to hear her anguish and accusations - before plunging it back in with renewed wryness.
"Revenge is the name of the game. You knew that when you joined them. You knew they'd repay the Talori with blood - from kids or not."
You don't understand, she had said (and Jemin had heard it many, many times before) but no, he thought it was Aisling whom was blinded by her naivities. Through corruption, strife and dark ritual, the Talori had rotted themselves to the core. They would bring their poison to Serora if given no one to oppose them.
"No, you left because things went to shit and you - " he paused, raised his voice, " - you didn't want to face those consequences. Awfully convenient that you gained Serora's favor just now, isn't it?"
Jemin himself had no loyalty with which to boast. He backstabbed and lied, switched allegiances when it suited him and fled when it did not. The difference was that he was aware of it; Aisling, or so he believed, still clung to notions of honor and innocence.
The only other difference was that his betrayals never quite worked in his favor.
P #3 | WC 311
Jemin - Serora - The Folk |
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Post by fynli on Jun 25, 2018 22:15:29 GMT -6
= Aisling =
3 | 338His words left her frozen. He didn’t understand how the Flight worked, no one from the outside did. He had never seen the damage radical action had inflicted.
“No…” her voice was meek as she tried to find the fire to argue, to at least show him he was wrong. He claimed that he knew why she joined, why she left the Flight, why she ended up in Serora. He knew nothing about her. How could he stand there and spit in her face?
He raised his voice and Aisling’s feathers puffed out further in defense, her wing instinctively fanning out to shield her daughter from the mule’s view. Aisling was a gentle mare, an extreme pacifist unfortunate enough to find herself in the path of war. Serora had promised safety so of course she had fled. Anger was one emotion that she loathed to feel, however. It bubbled in her gut and rose slowly up her throat, choking her and setting her skin on fire. Jemin reminded her all too much of Antiope, of all those whom had claimed for a better future but only if that future was paved with the blood of innocents. He boasted of having no alliance, no fear of retribution.
Aisling was real damn tired of it. Instead of swallowing her emotions and turning the other cheek, she stood tall to face him.
“You don’t know a damn thing about me, Jemin. You know nothing of my life and why I came here.” Her tongue was laced with a rare venom as she hissed at him, her tone dangerously quiet compared to his. She had no need to yell to get her point across. It wasn’t her style.
“Stay away from me and my daughter if you know what’s good for you,” Aisling spat through gritted teeth, feeling the heavy guilt and pain from breaking her pacifism rules already settling in her belly. She hated being pushed to aggression but in this situation, it seemed like the only way he would listen.
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Post by Blubber-Bun on Jun 26, 2018 20:24:36 GMT -6
J E M I N
What Jemin presumed to be denial paved the way to anger; her fury was met with equal (if not more caustic) fervor. The deep brown of his eyes slivered into slits as she squared off, hissing her rebuttal between clenched jaws.
"Why you fled here, you mean," Jemin interjected coldly, cocking his head with a flash of sharp teeth. Her following statement made him bare them - not quite in disagreement, but something more akin to indignation or forced amusement. If she wanted to end this, so be it... but still he refused to be cowed too easily.
Or so he thought. Subconsciously, he stepped back with a skittering gait.
"Was that a threat, feather mop? No need for... for - "
A glimpse of fawn's eyes - wide and pale as two moons, quivering like glass - behind the rippling feathers of Aisling's wing. Shocked. Freightened. He faltered, hushing his snarl.
"... for that."
Oh, shit.
Tongue still curled with a remark, he became very still very quickly. He had assumed the child had scampered off at the first indication of conflict. Clearly, that was not the case.
"How... " With fleeting guilt he looked towards Aisling, malice forgotten as he bit his lip. "... how long has she been here?"
P #4 | WC 203
Jemin - Serora - The Folk |
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Post by fynli on Jun 26, 2018 20:50:18 GMT -6
= Aisling =
4 | 319Aisling watched as he faltered, furrowing her brows as he seemed to have come to his senses. Judging by his lowered gaze, it wasn’t an awakening from her words.
He pointed out Primrose’s position. His eyes went from child to mother, guilt and dread clear in his eyes. Aisling bristled further, sparing a glance back at her daughter. Prim looked terrified, her brown eyes cold from fear rather than the joyous warmth they usually provided. A bitter taste settled on her tongue as she regretted ever allowing her baby to come near him.
“What, are you afraid of showing your true colors to her?” She snapped back at him, feeling Prim shudder against her flank. With a forceful jab of pink teke to his chest, Aisling stepped closer to him, ears pinned back and teeth bared with the fury of an overprotective mother. “You will never see her again, do you hear me? She doesn’t need the disgrace of Serora leading her down a degenerate path.”
The words stung her as much as they stung him. She could feel it in the tight recoil of her throat, the way her anger balled up and threatened to force its own release. Bitter tears pricked the corners of her eyes and she turned away in a hurry, ushering Prim to continue down the path. She’d wanted so badly to trust Jemin and now… what was she to do?
A watery glance went down as she felt a tug on her mane, seeing Prim’s wary but reassuring smile peering up at her. Prim tried so hard to be the middle ground and Aisling felt horrible cutting her off from who she might have called a friend. It was the right thing to do. Aisling had sworn to protect her baby and she would stick to that no matter what.
Without looking back, the two left the canyon, leaving the straggled fiddler behind.
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