Theme 09: Aeva - Week 2

T'is Monday again, the day I try and catch up with all my responsibilities. It'll be an interesting week as Thursday I have a job interview, and next week Monday my driving exam that I really really need to pass or I won't be driving by end September anymore. So yeah, totally no stress << XD

In the meantime some writing has occurred, not so much drawing. Trying to find some balance between the two while still going forward with both. There are not enough hours in a day to do everything. XD

And, I've gotten my hands on the Final Fantasy X remaster and I have to say: I am enjoying that game far more now than I did 10 years ago. Okay, they clearly made huge adjustments to the facial expressions (coming from PS2, it says a lot!) and the music remaster is to die for... but the story itself hasn't changed. I guess I have. Or, rather, the story now speaks to me in ways it couldn't way back when because I didn't have my own stories planned out. As death is an essential component in them, it only makes sense FFX has drawn me in like never before. I'm also less prone to quit when a boss kicks my ass several times in a row << XD (Seymour Flux made me quit the game way back when). Now I've reached Zanarkand and a plot twist I recall not having quite understood the first time around (the blend English voices/French text wasn't exactly helpful)... and it already reminds me of the ending, and that I am so going to cry at the end. Again. XD (though so many moments make me cry... I swear, it really has drawn me in like never before).

And I wonder: will I ever be able to write a story as compelling? Will I ever get it done? Whichever stage I finally reach, I want to at least be able to say: I tried. But rather will I say: I succeeded, and I'm not done succeeding.

And so we reach week two for Aeva, which means: writing! :D now, I looked through my files and found only one worthy of sharing. I decided to share the entire (incomplete) thing, even if the starting character isn't Aeva... but the fact is they will deal with one another on a regular base. As this writing dates back a few years though, parts of it may have become obsolete, but the tone and character depictions remain in my eyes correct.

As for the scenes themselves, they happen sometime after Nadieja's meeting with Seres and the subsequent danger Erjin encountered, only to be rescued in more ways than one. As you can see, yes, I've started lingering about a specific place in my world XD I guess I just like it there. Next month I will take us to the Empire, but shh, still a couple weeks left to go ;)

I don't care how you get him here, just do it!

Searing pain constricted Devon's chest, each breath more difficult than the last. He stared, incredulous, at the crying, trembling young girl before him.

The dagger she held shone crimson in the dark street's lights.

Why? The words did not pass his lips. He'd only wanted to protect her from the Honorary criminal who'd pursued him almost incessantly, a man foul and wicked who abused his position and tormented the weak. This girl, whose terrible scream had attracted his attention and lured him here, whom he'd reached out to in order to appease her fears… She, small and terrified and agonizing, had driven the blade straight through his chest and, he sensed, narrowly failed causing any lethal injury. He couldn't tell what was worse: the sting of his bleeding wound, or the large drowning eyes she stared at him with.

The girl screamed again, sudden panic striking, and fled the dark alleyway dagger in hand. The Honorary called after her, then cursed under his breath. He'd have to get that dagger back.

I should have known, Devon thought as his strength ebbed away, I should have killed you, conscience be damned. Once healed, this would be his first objective. Kneeling, he lifted a shaking hand upon the gaping wound and felt at his flesh.

It felt stone cold.

No. His fingers traced the edges of the wound, waiting, frantically feeling for any sign of healing. But his flesh remained cold and stale, dead like humans' dies. Was the injury more serious than anticipated? Had it damaged his heart nonetheless? …One wound too many?

Blood poured still from his chest, a glittering red river of life forlorn. As he stared at his bloodsoaked hand, memories flooded his fading thoughts.

The memory of Sorasiehn, the hardened warrior-leader of the Syrilae who had died in his arms; that of her granddaughter Selessannea, whom he'd loved as a daughter, friend and never-to-be lover, who'd died in his arms during the birth of her second daughter who, at a young age, slit her wrist to end her suffering. A life led in blood, by blood, and ending in blood.

This was not the way he'd wished to leave this life behind. Vampires were endless – or so he'd come to believe after two millenia. Lives lived, saved and lost – all the time in the world to dream, yet no dreams left to fulfill. A hollow, gruesome life many times offered up, and as many times spared.

Until tonight.

For the sake of one young girl too shaken to know right from wrong anymore, who'd preferred harming her saviour rather than her captor.

Devon lay on the cobblestones, the bloody pool beneath his waning body spreading with each broken breath. The cold of death embraced him, stroked away the pain and numbed his senses.

He was not aware of the auren-eyed wolf, nor of the gurgled screams of officer Gordain.

* * *

Moonsshine.

Aeva was not surprised. As an alchemist's apprentice, she'd learned of the pearlescent rock's properties: it slowed down bleeding, granting a healer precious time to treat the deepest cuts and wounds upon which it was usually applied. Vampires relied heavily on their natural ability to rapidly heal, but without inner bloodflow this healing process never began. The Moonsshine had prevented his veins and tissue from closing, leading his blood to accumulate in his chest and seek the only way out.

Whomever had given the dagger to the girl who'd fled her grasp last night truly had wanted the Vampire to die. These weapons were not cheap, as Moonsshine was mined in tunnels deep beneath the sands of the H'Jen Desert to the west, and difficult to extract or manufacture due to their brittle nature. That girl had no coin nor reason to possess such a weapon – neither did Gordain.

She passed her thumb along her lips, tasting the Honorary's blood between her teeth. She regretted the course of events and the death of a man, but felt no grief nor any remorse.

The victim had been clear in her mind. The choice, easy.

Healers came and went, checking on the Vampire's vitals and the peculiar contraption of Dogren design that helped him breathe. Twice he'd vomited blood and edged towards the abyss of death – twice, they had stabilized his condition. Aeva had marveled at the Dogren's creativity, which regularly saved the lives of citizens. Contraptions of magic and metal, alarm systems, comforting sounds and lights to ease the youngest patients' fears… It seemed but yesterday their greatest allies were potions and salves, bandages and willing hands.

Malmern merely paid the Dogren's ingenuity with their own citizens. What happened to these 'volunteers' was never disclosed, and they were never seen again. Aeva figured no one really knew, and no one really wanted to know.

Captain Seres paid the unconscious Vampire a visit the following morning. Then the morning after, and the morning after that, until one morning Devon lay awake at last, but too weak to answer any questions. Aeva said nothing. She watched in silence as always she watched, and waited for the human elder to vacate before approaching the Vampire. He smiled once he recognized her.

"I killed him," she said point blank. Devon's shock was easily read. "This choice I made because it was right," she continued with a level tone, "whatever the cost may be. I will remain by your side until you are well, and face the consequences of my choice. Know that you are a target," she added with a pointed tone, "of whom I do not know, and I will not find out. Rest, and return to health. I will not leave."

* * *

Aeva's roar resonated through the close corridors. "How dare you speak for me!", her deep voice shouted with resentment, "How dare you take my rightful place!"

Sitting up on the white-sheeted bed, back against the wall, Devon shrugged. "They want me dead already," he said matter-of-factly, looking down at his fidgeting hands, "Seems only right to me."

"Lies!" Aeva's fierce eyes glinted. "You seek retribution, not justice!"

Devon was silent for a moment. "Be that as it may," he said softly, "it's too late now. Whatever you were to say, they would not believe you. Did you see his eyes ? I am to pay, and no one else. The decision was made before I even spoke."

Aeva took a deep breath, and released all her rage as she exhaled. She refused to agree with him, knowing his assumption was more than likely correct. The man named Seres had the eyes of a man tormented by grief, duty, and a hatred beyond words of reason. Aeva sat herself down on the chair she'd occupied the past days, and stared over at the Vampire.

The fragile scent of guilt and grief filled the room.

"I don't mind," he said at length, "You saved my life, now I will be saving yours."

* * *