Death In The Tides of Autumn

[Philomel]

No.

Never.

It cannot be.

"Don't even JOKE about this, Isa!" she screamed as she threw down the book.

Mina Garna froze. She was a young elf, and had not been in the Gilded Lily long. She ducked her head, hands folding into fearful fists. Biting her lip she tried to think of how best to say it.

"I am not joking, my lady. The news is true. Your mother-"

"My MOTHER is blessed my the goddess Drys. As am I, as are we all!" Philomel screamed out, now stamping a hoof on the wooden floor. A slight reverberation ran through it, and Mina could feel it through the panels. "She cannot be!"

Mina swallowed, and screwed up her eyes, "But ... but my lady ..."

[Philomel]

Furious, Philomel whipped around, screaming out loud her fury.

"It CANNOT be!" she screamed as loud as she could, braid flailing out behind her as she turned swiftly. "It's not fair, it cannot happen, it CANNOT be!"

Mina peeked open an eye. She watched as the hulking form of the faun strode across to the other side of the room and proceeded to pull off the covers of her hammock and furiously through them to the ground. At least it wasn't anything heavy now, but it was still out of frustration and anger.

Whimpering softly she glanced once more at the crumpled paper in her hand and re-read the message, but it was still the same. It still more the same words, the same message, and the same tears that had gathered when they were written.

'All my love ... with my last dying breath ...'

"NO!" Philomel shrieked at the top of her voice, falling to her knees. "No, mother!"

[Philomel]

'I am sorry to bring you the news of the death of Lady Lacey van der Aart. A noble faun and a noble practioner of the art of prostitution. Mother to Philomel van der Aart, guardian and acting first mate of the Fiesty Fox, she will forever be remembered in our memory.'

"Take it fucking away," she screeched, cheeks already tear-stained. "Take it away, I don't want to hear those words again."

Mina looked down again, completely hating herself for being the one to have brought the news. To be honest, she had volunteered, wanting to get herself recognised by the Matriarch, to stand out and be noted as going above and beyond duty in order to bring this news ... but now, obviously, things had not gone to plan. Instead she was the bringer of bad tidings, not the useful messenger who survived the Concordia forest by herself, braved hill and glen to get this precious message here to the fort.

Gently, a hand placed itself over her shoulder. Looking up she saw the tired face of Vaeron, the second in command of the Gilded Lily and only man who could ever sent foot amongst them.

"I didn't ..."

He shook his head gently and just quietly gestured for her to leave.

[Philomel]

Quickly, she ran out. Leaving the paper for him.

He looked down at it, tilting his head to read the official message, then the personal scrawl beneath it from Philomel's mother. It was kind enough, at least, for the old haggered woman to scrawl something, but it hadn't made it any easier.

Still Philomel raged, now slamming herself over the head, repeatedly, with a pillow.

"Damn, damn, DAMN IT!"

Vaeron rolled his eyes before striding forwards. "Stop it," he said softly. "You'll hurt yourself."

He calmly reached out and tried to take the cushion.

Reaction. The faun lashed out. Softness, but thumping hard, met his head.

[Philomel]

Indeed, he fell silent.

The mage blinked, frowning a little as his head very much began to smart.

"Well," he dryly said. "That was not appropriate."

Standing there, quite held in shock, Philomel stared at him for a moment, before dropping the pillow. With a face so heavily tear-stained and dripping it was hard to tell if she was truly remorseful for what she had just done, but one had to hope.

Her hands, shaking, flew to her face and she gasped a little in shock.

"Oh I am sorry," she mumbled quickly. "Sorry, I ... Well ..."

[Philomel]

"Yeah, whatever," he muttered, shaking himself.

He rolled back his shoulders, and screwed up the paper in his hand.

"Whatever, Princess. I was trying to help, but I can see you are coping just well on your own."

Sourly he curled his lip and began to turn, raising his chin and shaking back his salt and pepper hair to begin striding out. A strong stride, obviously, with purpose and dignity and power. To leave the miserable faun alone to her own way of coping.

Which apparently included hitting her friends.

Her only friend, it should be said, who didn't take the form of a fox or a dragon.

"Ahhh ... wait!"

[Philomel]

He stopped in his tracks. He breathed in slowly, but did not turn around.

She stopped, and swallowed before biting her lip. "I am so sorry," she mumbled. "It is just ... I don't want to get angry at you but ..."

Vaeron twisted his head around, fixing her with a focused stare. "You want to be angry."

Huffing, she nodded and shuffled forwards. Meek, like a lamb, she came to him, and buried her head into his shoulder. He was the best friend she had never had, besides Veridian. But then Veridian had been hers for all time, since his first breath and her first state of knowing her destiny. They had been together for all this time, and ... well. He was a part of her.

Vaeron was different. He was her brother, the lover she would never have, the father that she never had had. The human mage wrapped his arms around her, nodding quietly as she proceeded to cry again, rivers of sorrow and heart ache.

"It's alright," he whispered. "It is never going to be easy."

[Philomel]

She sniffed into his once white, cotton shirt. Snot dripped from her nose, but he did not care. He let her dribble uselessly and kept holding her upright.

"How ... how many more deaths must I go through?" she mumbled. "Every one of my girls ... every time Veridian goes ... and now - now."

He nodded and rubbed her back softly, "Loss is something so hard to understand," the unsmiling man said gently, his hand rising to tangle into her hair. "So hard, so complicated, so brutal ... but it makes us learn."

"Learn how to suffer, how to cry?" she retorted, angrily.

Vaeron froze, feeling the rage in her voice. His brows furrowed, lips parted. He knew her when she was frustrated, and it often led to him being hit with cushions.

"Ehhh ..."

[Philomel]

Suddenly Philomel realised where she was going. Slipping right back into her abusive madness use of sorrow. She quickly ducked her head, and stepped away, rememebering the way he had stared at her, stunned, after she had practically walloped him.

"Sorry," she muttered.

Vaeron blinked at the word. Very few ever heard her say such a thing.

He waved his hand and shook his head kindly. "Do not worry about it," he let it pass, "No worries at all."

She awkwardly padded her feet. "Sorry," she repeated.

"You don't sound like an all pwerful Princess Matriarch about to take over Corone," he said lightly.

And he reached over to prod her shoulder. Apparently a little too hard.

[Philomel]

She gasped, and he had got her back for the thump over his head.

"Ow, fucker!" she yelled, turning right the way around to face him fully again.

Gently, playfully almost, she hit him with retribution across the cheek. This time, it did not hurt so much, just stung for a few seconds and then disappated to the ether of forgotten times.

"Fucker am I?" he asked, rubbing the jaw. "Hmmm. I have not fucked anyone in a long time."

"I am sure I could find you a rent-boy that suits your needs," she quiped.

And all of a sudden a grin came to her lips.