Re: 55 - What to do, after the end of the World.
A single sparrow brings the sad news. Cyan hangs her head as it sings its song, then flutters away. Another life created by the shadowy man who touched their lives so briefly. She wonders how many of his creations wander through the Myriad Worlds, seeking their own fate now that their task is complete.
Devlin always did give them their freedom after.
The walk through the forest is mostly silent, as Cyan struggles to keep herself moving. It is exhausting, even for one of her preternatural stamina. Everyone appears to have fallen under the same affliction. She concentrates on putting one foot before another, keeping herself moving despite the exhaustion. Her eyes return again and again to the woman before her, who carries Berd on her shoulder.
"Farwell, Devlin," she whispers as she walks. "I can only hope to hear from you again. Soon."
And they arrive.
Cyan bows, and stumbles over her own introduction in her weariness. "Cyan of...No Place in Particular." Her smile is weak. "You have my gratitude, and my debt, for your kindness to my friends and these refugees. I have no right..." She glances at Dorian, who has already asked for her. This is not unwelcome - better that someone ask than she mope about, uncertain of her own two feet. "A bath would be a fine thing," she continues in a rush, "but it need not be private. I should do well enough with a simple room." Common baths are not unknown to her, so long as all participants are women.
"Excuse me, please," she says, almost absently, and slowly turns toward the woman. And Berd.
Cyan walks forward and stops.
+ GENERAL? OUR ORDERS? + Right's voice quivers with tension.
"Stand down," Cyan whispers, like a ghost of the Warrior in Jet and Gold.
+ INSOMUCH AS WE ARE ABLE...+ Left peels off from the General's ankle and takes up position several paces distant. Right hesitates a moment longer, then follows.
Now alone, Cyan holds out her hand, her amythest eyes shining with unshed tears. "Berd?"
..."Bird! Bird!"...
The first thing she saw. The first word she spoke. And in that instant, she named him as much as he named her. Berd, her father.
Strange how she had never understood that.
Berd sits up straight on Trista's shoulder, then slowly walks down Trista's arm to crouch at her wrist. His weight is light, much less than that of the cat whose size he resembles. His eyes burn in the misty light of the second Charyk.
"That path runs both ways, Berd," Cyan whispers. She takes a step, and another. "Do you have enough forgiveness in your heart for me? I have done many things, terrible things. Some to the Myriad Worlds. Some to you." Berd's eyes flicker, and he *cheeps*. Cyan bows her head. "Your well is inexhaustible, it seems...it puts me to shame. But I...I understood nothing before." Her gaze rises to him again. "I understand better, now. I forgive, knowing what lies in your heart." Her lips tremble, and she holds out both of her hands. "Berd?" Cyan swallows. "Will you tell me of Shadows?"
Berd stands up straight upon Trista's wrist, and his eyes kindle like twin suns as Cyan's hands reach up. The dragon's voice is an aetheric roar now, a peal of thunder upon the psychic plane. My daughter...there are no shadows.
Then she sweeps him off Trista's wrist and sinks to her knees. Unable to speak, Cyan holds him gently as he chirrups musically and the tears streak her cheeks. Dorian. Aaron. Jonnee. James. Devlin. And now Berd.
....]
The tears run their course, surprisingly quickly. Too many, too recently. What Berd says to her now, and what she replies, remains unheard, as they communicate on that certain level, unknown to others. But the bands of sorrow and pain around Cyan's heart loosen further, and something once rent asunder is forged anew.
Forgetting would prove impossible, for what has passed by is a part of their lives. But forgiveness is a miracle, for it spans all gaps.
Finally, Cyan looks up at Trista. Still cradling Berd, she stands to wipe her eyes. "Apologies," the bard whispers, and means it. "I would not be so rude as to ignore...I am Cyan." She reaches out her hand to take Trista's, the echo of Berd's memories of the battle strong in her mind. "You...saved his life. Saved my father's life." She sniffles once, flushes with embarassment. Berd clambers upon her shoulder then skitters about uncomfortably upon the armor, gripping Cyan's hair for balance. She doesn't notice. Instead, she bows her head (setting off another mad scramble).
"For this, I cannot repay you save with gratitude and an offer of friendship. Berd thinks highly of you, though you and he just recently met." She straightens, then looks at the little drake, tears welling at the sight of him wobbling uncertainly. "Oh, you...go. I understand."
Berd hops over to Trista's shoulder and hisses at the armor. The drake seems quite put out, possibly due to his emotional state. Cyan cocks her head to the side with a smile. "There are few shoulders on which Berd will happily ride. Your seems to be another." She rubs her eyes again, then sniffles.
More embarassment.