Theme 07: Nadieja - Week 4

As the heat has finally arrived, so has my brain melted into a puddle of nameless goo... Slept like crap yesterday, leading to a zombie day. Didn't sleep all too well last night either, but at least my brain's somewhat awake. Thus, it's posting time <<

And let it be known I currently feel as though I'll never amount to anything or be able to get my stories done and all that negative crap and dear god negative cycle again. It's the heat and tiredness. And the world being a steaming pile of crap. Especially our government. These are the days I really wonder what I'm doing here. And realize I'm just in a bad phase and it'll pass because always it does. Just sucks while in the middle of it e.e

Ahem. So today we have the last part of Nadieja's theme. I don't really know which way to go for next week's theme; so, this week's post will not relate to whomever I happen to choose for next week. I'm slowly running out of novel-related characters, which I guess is a good thing :) so, afterwards, we'll see where we go. For now, enjoy a little scene taken from the other side of Nadieja's life.

(disclaimer: this writing's old and needs an edit. Just so you know. <<)

She tugged at her thick coat absentmindedly, and marched on. It took but a few more minutes for her to reach her destination. Before knocking on the door, she peered inside the large bright window, as though making sure someone was home before disturbing the peace.

A tall, dark-skinned man answered the door, his deep black eyes glinting at the sight of her. "Hello," she smiled with warmth, "I happened to be in Desri, and I thought… Ethan isn't home, is he?"

The man laughed, his bat-winged ears quivering to the sound of his own voice, and he ushered her inside. "No, Nadieja, you're safe. Trust me, I haven't seen the boy in days!"

She stared in horror. "Is he missing? Did you report it?"

"No, no, he's not missing… He's just never home when I am. Gregory and Anna are asleep. It's just me."

"Oh… well, that's a relief," she said with as much relief that he wasn't missing, and currently not home, "I just wish…"

"I know," he replied, leading her towards the couch, "You can't blame him for thinking I'm replacing her. He's just a boy, he'll understand, eventually."

"If you say so, Giounai… Martha was a good person, and certainly a good mother. She's raised magnificent children."

"So will you," he said with a smile as he poured over the cauldron bubbling softly over the hearth, "And I think there's still enough for two. Are you staying ?"

"Oh, I… Sure, why not, I'd love to."

Giounai and Nadieja settled in the couch, each with a large bowl of vegetable soup in their hands. They relaxed after a long day of work, finally in the company of someone trusted.

Nadieja had met Giounai on the day of his wife's death. He'd gotten into a fight with a Honorary, maddened by grief, and it was but by the greatest of chances that she had happened to pass by, as one of her twin daughters had fallen ill and she was visiting her at the Guild. Giounai's wife, Martha, had succumbed to a long illness, of which the presence only became apparent during her last pregnancy. She died soon after giving birth. Alas, the child did not survive. Nadieja had comforted him as a friend, and a friend she had become. Giounai was different: he was true, honest. True to his lost love, whom she knew he would never replace – whom she never meant to replace to begin with, as she didn't find Giounai attractive in that way. As a friend, however, he was the most attractive of men she had ever encountered. She trusted him with her life, and knew the feeling was mutual. Therefore, he was not surprised when she spoke to him about work.

"Giounai… I have a problem", she said after a while, halfway through her bowl of soup.

"Uh oh," he laughed, "what is it this time, hmm ? Did someone fall asleep on a flower bed ?"

She smiled, but only just. He knew at once the problem at hand was serious.

"Not quite," she replied, then sighed, "I'm not sure how to explain this to you… Have you ever heard of Varyi ? Humans call them Vampires. I imagine they have other names, as well, but these are common to Malmernian."

The silence disturbed her intensely. She turned to look at him, and saw that the corners of his eyes were wet. She hadn't actually expected him to understand without further explanation.

"Bad experience, I take it ?" she cooed, trying to remain as neutral as possible. A moment later, he smiled and shook his head, wiping away the tears forming in his eyes.

"Not what you'd think," he sniffed, taking a deep breath, "But, yes, I remember seeing one of them, once. We called him 'vampir'. He was a good guy," Giounai nodded, as though agreeing with himself. Nadieja was stumped. "Why do you ask ?", he added.

"… a 'good guy'?", she murmured, her voice gradually amplifying, "A good guy ?? Are you aware those creatures are murderers?! That they'd kill your children in a—"

"Hey," he whispered, his deep voice like a rumbling rock, "My children are sound asleep, and I'd like for them to stay that way. Lower your voice. What did you expect," he grunted, sipping his soup, "you asked for my opinion. That is my opinion. Don't like it? You know where the door is."

"Giounai," she groaned with a suave tone, like a child knowing she did wrong and unwilling to admit it, "I didn't mean it like that. I was just… surprised. It's been a very long day."

"I only have soup," he replied, still a little sour.

"It'll do," she smiled in return.

"So, tell me about this problem of yours," he finally asked after they'd both finished up and left the bowls on an already quite cluttered dining table that hadn't been used as such since she'd known him. Nadieja took a deep breath, and begun her explanation. The Varyi, the death of the Honorary. Their execution. And then, "His last words were 'kill me'. I have never heard of a Varyi pleading for death. He meant it, Giounai, he really does want to die."

"So, the problem is that you don't want him to die ?"

"Not like this, no," she nagged, gesturing towards the floor in defeat, "We execute criminals of whom the crimes have been proven. I'm more than certain he's a murderer, but by law there are no grounds for us to keep him locked up. If I release him, I won't outlive the scandal. They'll have my head for this. Oohhh," she sighed, resting her head back on the couch, "I wish he'd never come to Malmern. What am I to do with this situation."

Nadieja covered her face in her hands, stifling a cry of utter desperation and frustration. Giounai, on the other hand, was thinking. Deeply. Loathe as he was to reminisce on past heartaches, there was more at stake than his own comfort zone. He remembered the vampire from his home. Not all too clearly, but well enough to know he considered him a kind, caring man. Not a beast, not a monster out for their blood: just a man. Then he remembered his wife, beautiful in her short, broad ways, in a time when they were happy and carefree. He still hated Ansai Nefahtil, after all those years, still hated her deeply.

"What would you do?", Nadieja finally asked, breaking Giounai free of his phantoms, "In my place, what would you do?"

Good question, he thought, staring at her. Killing wasn't in his nature in the least, but he understood that, in certain situations, it might be a necessity. He puffed extensively, rolling his eyes. "What are you asking me, Nadieja… I can't answer that. If you think he should walk, then let him walk. If not, then don't."

"… you men are all alike," she glared, irritated, "it's always so simple. 'Yes is yes, no is no'," she fussed in a deep, ridiculous voice, "But this is a man's life we're talking about, and—"

"—and I think you just answered your own question," he stated matter-of-factly, "you called your problem a man."

No I didn't, she wanted to say, but she knew he was right. She had, herself, just called the Varyi a man. Vish, she cursed to herself.

"So, what do I do," she said, outwardly calm, "how do I release him without putting myself, and even him, at risk ?"

She pondered the question, folding her arms in the process. What had she learned about them, what did she know ? They were strong. Extremely strong. The young male specimen had been impaled by two lances, yet no trace of his wounds remained when she'd seen it. The female had clung to the Honorary's armour like a leech, and it took two more to remove her.

She bit on her nails, the fire in the hearth provoking new thoughts. She had wanted to reduce criminality in the neighbouring towns. The Honorary were too full of themselves to accept guarding and patrolling farming towns and, in certain cases, were criminals themselves with too much leeway. What if…