Intaglio

Dreamscape Repair - Thread 1

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Eliza Soule
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Intaglio

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Ashan 123, Arc 719


"What have you done!?"

Little did Eliza know that this was how it would always begin. This was just the start of it, only trills after everything fell apart. Everything. Trial after trial, night after night for a season or more to come, this dream, and Emea's never ending lament would keep haunting her. Or for arcs, until the cycle was broken.

Her eyes fluttered open and peered out at a colorless wasteland. A desert. What she'd shouted was the last attempt she'd made to stop the inevitable from happening. To no avail, as if asking could have stopped or unwound it. She was bent over, elbows above knees, her long dark tangled hair hanging over her face like a curtain and her hands clapped over her ears. Trying to silence the requiem with its eerily discordant notes that never stopped. She couldn't stop it, no matter how hard she tried. A man. Vri, standing there, pointing at no one but everyone. Demanding, expecting. The Immortals crying out in anguish, including her own father. And then...This.

Tears had been streaming down her cheeks. But now there were none. No one who knew her well would ever believe it. She'd run out of tears. Eliza remembered. Everthing. In fact, she remembered more than everything. Once, she'd been split strangely in two and now was one again. She remembered it all. The place like a classroom, desks and chairs in a row. The One. Vri. The Immortals. Her father. She'd met her father for the very first time. She'd been marked by him, by Pier and by Pre, and as a mortalborn had received a new domain. Ironic, considering the nature of her other previous half had sacrificed.

And....Auya. She'd died. But she was resurrected, Eliza remembered. Auya was an Immortal. The daughter of Ymiden smiled only briefly, but sincerely. At least Auya's sacrifice hadn't been for nothing.

Looking out at a world that, from an artist's unique perspective, resembled much more a mezzotint, created in shades of gray and pressed onto cream colored parchment, than watercolor or oil on canvas. In fact, that was exactly what it looked like. Like a three dimensional rendering, a desert landscape done in the intaglio style, and she'd just stepped into it. The tune in her head had stopped hounding her, for now. But in it's place was an unsettling, deafening silence. Still, a second look at the scenery stopped her up short. It wasn't very different than the place where Auya had died; except that there weren't cyclones in the distance or bodies scattered all over; in the hope that Hart, Wren and herself could go on. Wren....

"Wren!?" she cried as it dawned on her. The young boy who'd once been Anthropos, tormented by the Twins until Hart had rescued him, wasn't there. He'd been holding on tight to her hand, and now he was gone. But somehow, in a way she couldn't begin to figure out, Eliza suddenly understood as if on a whim, that he was safely tucked in to bed on her fainting couch in Caervalle Town. Sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware and not remembering. Eliza envied him.

In one hand, she held a heart shaped crystal and she smiled again though sadly, remembering Auya. In her other was the brightly colored whirligig. It had somehow retained it's natural hues, just as she had. As a result, it looked unreasonably cheerful and unconcerned in contrast to their gray surroundings. And it was unnaturally cold. A thick cloak or a half dozen blankets wouldn't have made any difference. Shaking her head, Eliza frowned accusingly at the whirligig. "A lot of help you were. You had...just...one...job. That's it. One." She'd tucked the whirligig into her hair before they'd entered the cathedral, and given it a single task. Just one. If danger was approaching, it should act as a warning.

If a single individual, or two, bent on the absolute destruction of...everything, didn't rate as a clear and present danger, a case of impending doom or even just something mildly amiss, then what did? "What would you have done if it had warned you?" Eliza knew that voice. "Eberhardt!" she said, looking around her desperately for her tiny primate companion. Her dark hair fanned out from her shoulders as she turned, and..."Hey! You're making me dizzy! Help me!" Reaching up, the mortalborn breathed a deep sigh of relief as the tips of her fingers brushed against Eberhardt. It was the first conscious breath that she'd taken since she'd arrived.
Last edited by Eliza Soule on Fri May 24, 2019 2:01 am, edited 1 time in total. word count: 795
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Eliza Soule
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Eberhardt had held tight to her, throughout the windstorm and the chaos, while Emea crumbled, cracked and had apart, and had become trapped in the tangled mess that was her windblown hair. "I thought you were lost," Eliza nearly sobbed while working frantically to untangle her friend. "You didn't answer my question," Eberhardt said, once she was finally freed and had scampered onto Eliza's shoulder.

"What would you have done if the whirligig had warned you?" That was easy, and in Eliza's current state...the one where she was convinced that all the sacrifices; not just her own but those of others including Auya's; but for one individual, had been made completely in vain. "If I'd had the means, I'd have put a bolt straight through his black heart," she said bluntly.

Eberhardt's sudden burst of laughter, a guffaw really, half primate half...something else, shattered the thick, unnerving silence that surrounded them. "You? Sure, that's you. A natural born killer." The pint-sized primate was hardly holding back, and Eliza bit back. "Why not me?"

"Well first of all, you're a terrible shot. Remember the rabbit?" Eliza remembered it very well. She'd gone into her back garden, back in Caervalle Town with her pistol crossbow, and had nailed an enormous wooden target to a tree at the edge of the forest. And at just a handful of paces, the thing had kicked, her shot went wild, and somehow, she'd killed a small woodlands rabbit that had been foraging nearby. Eliza had been heartbroken. Instead of cleaning and cooking it like any other normal person might do, she'd gently scooped up the rabbit and had buried it in her garden. She sniffled and apologized to the poor creature for half the trial to come.

"It's different now. If I could have, I would. And I wouldn't place a hand-painted stone with a heartfelt epitaph over his grave either." Like she'd done with the rabbit. And Tio? Him too, now that she thought about what he'd done.
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Eliza Soule
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"So before you start dreaming about dancing on anyone's grave...which is as likely as Aelig deciding to end his letters with x's and o's, or start dotting his i's with little hearts, what are you going to do about that?" said Eberhardt, looking off in the distance.

Eliza knew what her companion was referring to. She'd already seen it, but had convinced herself not to see. Until now. A caravan of brightly colored wagons in the distance, as if done in pastels pressed hard on the paper. The smell of a campfire burning. And as it turned out, the deafening silence was not, silent or deafening after all. It had been of her own making.

The faint sounds of small bells jingling, as if they were strung around a dancing gypsy's feet, suddenly cut straight through it. And past the anger that had stopped her from hearing before. Anger at the futility of it all, and at the man, now an Immortal she knew, who had swiped all their efforts away with a thoughtless, self serving wave of a hand. And if she was honest, anger that the girl she'd been before stepping through that door into Emea, was also changed. Maybe forever. She didn't care for some of those changes.

Eliza knew what she'd been sent here to do, no matter how much she resisted. She knew what Vri expected of her, presumably of all of them. The requiem would keep haunting her and it would never stop. Night after night, no matter how she resisted, here was where she would stand, forced to choose. Until she chose correctly She could turn around and walk back out, or find whatever it was in the distance that was tugging at her. She'd given and sacrificed so much of what reminded her of who she was and where she'd come from. Strangely, whatever was out there across the distance, reminded her of family. Of home. But somehow she knew that getting there wouldn't be easy.

Truly, there was no choice but to try and fix whatever was broken. For the masses who now slumbered without dreams, or dreamed of a wasteland. And for her own father who'd been caught up in the consequences like all of the rest. If she didn't, then all of it really would have been in vain. What was she going to do about that then, her companion had asked. "We start walking."

"Onward then, Valentina," Eberhardt said.
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Alistair
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Re: Intaglio

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ELIZA


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Comments: That was kind of cute, in a way. Sorry for making all of Eliza's efforts mostly meaningless - but it was a good read and I enjoyed your introspective writing!


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