Perfect Memento in Miniature

[Amber Eyes]

A young child ran past, very nearly knocking the girl over. She took a deep breath as another kid, probably an older sister rushed behind him, throwing an apology over her shoulder as she chased the sandy haired boy. Kyla smiled and watched as the two disappeared into the crowd that filled the massive square, the girl’s bright yellow hair the last thing she saw of the pair before it blended in with everyone else. Sei had always told Kyla of a time when every inch of these squares would be filled with elves and humans alike selling their wares, you could hardly walk through the throngs of people. Now Raiaera was a shell of its former glory with only about one-tenth of the cobble-stone clearing being used. The city was only just beginning to look like a place that people lived rather than a place they studied. In truth it was both, very much a part of the painful history of the great architects and painters that once awed all of Althanas with their brilliance. It was also very much a safe haven for all the refugees who had spent years hiding in the forests and hoping to one day regain their former lives within proper houses. The existence of anyone in this space spoke wonders of the human will.

A large fountain sat in the distance and Kyla took the opportunity to rest her legs before continuing. As much as she hated to admit it, she stood little chance of making in back to Corone on time. The visit with her sister Emma at school, while enjoyable, had come with more complications than the mystic would have liked. She was due back at the castle in just a few days; if Sei was going to be upset with her she may as well enjoy the return trip. She sat upon the damp stone of the circular fountain, kicking off her shoes and slowly submerging her feet in the cool water. The sound of the liquid cascading down the single column in the center calmed her. The top of the column was uneven and someone with no knowledge of Raiaeran lore would be hard pressed to know that it had once been a shrine to Galatirion. It seemed fitting to the young mystic that she sat before the giver of extended life’s fallen legacy.

A few people slowed as they walked by, no doubt questioning the general’s sanity, she simply smiled and waved. A couple children stepped towards the fountain before their parents pulled them away and continued on their way. The blue sky punctuated by fluffy white clouds reflected off the rippling pool, giving her the sensation of walking on the soft surface. Several marks lay beneath the water, shining when the light hit them just right and creating the impression of diamonds below her clouded paradise. It was a beautiful day in a country of ruins.

People had stopped staring, or at least Kyla Orlouge had stopped noticing. She stretched her arms, lying back against the cool concrete about knee length from the ground. She closed her eyes and listened to the water connecting as it twisted and glided on its way back into the pool where it belonged. The water, the people, everything in Raiaera seemed to find where it was supposed to be. She let her hand fall into the pool and removed one of the marks, placing it in the pocket of her knee-length skirt before returning the free hand below her head with its partner. The mythril piece clinked lightly as it mixed with the gold. Now the mystic wasn’t the only thing in the country that wasn’t in its place.

[absentwizard]

A flock of brassy-throated jays flitted across the mid-morning sun, their namesake flashing in the light and their shadows mottling the plaza's crowd. The light drizzle at daybreak had been firmly ushered off by a fresh southerly breeze and now only a paltry few brave, flocculent stragglers stood in the sky. One scuttled in the sky, its shadow briefly passing over an abandoned, weed-choked garden near the plaza and its single visitor.

As mornings went, Iila decided, this one would be almost pleasant if not for the part where she felt the air around her to be strange in a rarefied, sterile sort of way. She has seldom been out of the Red Forest before this wandering; even then, it was always to a tiny excuse of a village that was wood and mud under the shade of great trees. In this expanse of stone, mortar, and concrete, there was something that felt very different. It is the death.

There were a lot fewer things constantly killing each other here. For someone who sustains herself by skimming off the rich, foamy head of lost life, this was most distressing. It was like a sailor trying to breathe up on a summit, not that Iila has been either one. That is why she was combining breakfast, community service, and gardening this morning. She stepped out into the dead-end street, leaving behind a garden full of dead weeds and two scrawny azaleas that have found a new lease on life.

She kicked her shoes against a corner-stone, all that was left standing of the house, to dislodge the light coat of soil on them. This area hadn't been rebuilt yet and the street was mostly deserted save for a handful of children who seemed to be trying to knock over a wall by throwing rather small rocks at it. Against the foot of an entirely different wall, Iila's basket sat slightly disturbed. A squirrel had sidled up to it a little while ago, probably chasing the smell from all the seeds gathered inside. It was a clever one and had had figured out how to open the hinged lid in just two tries.

Then it got kicked in the head.

Zanhae had glared her glassy, unblinking glare at the squirrel until it wilted and scampered away, then slammed the lid down after herself. One does not simply filch from Iila's picnic basket. Sanai poked her head out when Iila picked up the basket.

"<Zanhae beat up another squirrel.>"

"<Is that so?>"

"<She's not supposed to do that anymore.>"

"<That was yesterday, no?>"

"<That's right, Zanhae. It was just for when Valiae was throwing peanuts.>" Iila walked quietly around the corner and into the alleyway connecting this street to the plaza at large, walking in the shade of two moss-grown buildings that presumably used to be some kind of cafe or teahouse. There weren't many other explanations for the massive, elevated verandas. Meanwhile, the basketful of dolls started nattering away in each other's heads.

"<I just wanted to feed squirrels~>"

"<By throwing them at me, no?>"

"<I'm sorry~ I didn't look first~>"

"<It was funny. You wouldn't stop beating them up even after they stopped moving.>"

"<It was amusing and delicious, Zanhae, but you were starting to get squirrel all over your dress. I had to wash it again.">

"<Heh heh heh.>"

"<Heh heh heh, no?>"

"<Heh heh heh~>"

"<Heh heh heh aah.>"

Telepathic giggling can, under the wrong circumstances, be mistaken for evil ghostly chuckles. While this was not one of those circumstances, the new speaker did remind Iila of something. "<Oh, Ira!>" she shifted her arm to bring the basket to her front, "<I want to see how the new bow is holding up.>"

There was a series of shuffling noises inside the basket and it rocked back and forth. Iila made the second turn in the alleyway, sidestepping past a stiff mouse stretched out next to a few bright-orange mushrooms. The basket lid popped open and Ira's blond head, wearing a big, dark, black ribbon-bow, popped out to scattered protests.

"<Sanai, your big foot in my neck~>"

"<We wear the same size shoes! And you elbowed my nose!">

Iila's face cracked in one of her faint smiles and she extended her other arm towards the basket. Ira's smile was proportionally enormous as she scrambled expertly across Iila and settled into the proffered right arm for hugs. About the same time, Iila entered the plaza and... stared.

Through the crowds, in the little slice of open air cleared when a grown girl dragged a sandy-haired boy off by the scruff, Iila saw ... a someone, laying by the fountain. The basket went quiet as the ripple of modeler-gasm spread. Ira tugged on her String.

"<You should breathe aah.>"

Iila seized up, wheezing and coughing for half a minute before recovering. She wasn't technically in the crowd yet and was simply given an unnecessarily wider berth in case it was contagious. Fortunately, a full attack failed to materialize.

Two minutes later, Iila was slowly approaching the fountain with basket in one arm, drawing pad in one hand, tailor's pencil in the other hand, and Ira making her best impression of a hat. It was easy to have a doll for a hat when they knew to hang on by themselves. The dollmaker's eyes were wide open, staring, and her breath still came in short puffs.

Today, someone is going to get sketched. Tomorrow, a new life.

[Amber Eyes]

Kyla was used to being stared at. It came with being the only female general of the knights, it came with being an unwed mother, it came with being a murder, it came with being considered mentally unstable, it came with being the first mystic to survive both the light and shadow trials, it came with being the ‘daughter’ of the infamous Sei Orlouge. The feeling of eyes upon her was a familiar one, a sense of awareness she had endured most of her short life, and yet a spine-tingling sensations she had yet to grow accustomed to. She opened her eyes and stared straight into the blue sky above, connecting the clouds half-heartedly as her peripheral vision searched for the source of her discomfort.

Within the square there were several people who made nervous glances at the barefooted woman who lay upon the walls of the fountain, it was to be expected she thought with a smile, but this wasn’t the feeling of being glanced at. Someone somewhere was staring directly at her. Somewhat disgruntled the general willed herself to sit, the cool air immediately sending shivers up her back as it left the warm concrete. She reached her feet to the cobblestone street and slipped her shoes back on, pulling her knees one at a time to her chest and fastening the buckles behind her ankles. She paused when she was finished, finally noticing a young girl with a sketchpad several yards away. “Wonderful.’ The Ixian Knights did all they could to eliminate drawings of themselves, Kyla’s own self-portraits lay under lock and key at the castle. It was hard enough living a semblance of a normal life when you had the all too familiar blue eyes of an Orlouge, but if your features and name fell into enemy hands it was all but a death warrant.

The mystic stood, taking in the unconventional girl before her. Pad and pen in hand the girl scribbled away, her tender features focused upon her task. Her hair was a myriad of colored ribbons and yellow locks, her pale skin much like Kyla’s own when she spent little time in the elements, and her features were doll-like and fragile looking. She didn’t much look like someone who would be trusted by a military organization, but of course that only added to the suspicions of the eldest Orlouge daughter. No good strategist would send a warrior to spy for them, the small framed girl before her would attract little attention, save one thing. Kyla nearly laughed when the girl’s hat came into focus. A doll adorning the golden hair, that of course would draw attention. In any other situation the mystic would have taken her leave, either with the drawing or after just enough words to ensure the artist that should it be purchased they would not live to spend the marks, but curiosity always did get the better of her.

“You, Girl!” The mystic stood still, waiting until the stranger looked up from her work. “How about we go and get something to eat? I’m certain you will capture my image better up close.”

With a knowing smile Kyla walked away, hoping the girl would follow. While simply being caught would probably scare her out of selling the artwork, Kyla truly wanted to know where the curious girl came from. She reached a small café that had only recently reopened, its walls still damaged and the ceiling quite likely to fall at any given moment. She pulled out the more damaged looking of the two chairs at the rickety table, doing her best not to check behind her for the strange girl’s approach.

[absentwizard]

It was rather difficult to get a good picture of someone laying down, Iila reflected to herself as her pencil skritched away. Staying far away meant that all she could get was a profile, which would making the other half of the doll rather difficult. On the other hand, standing closer might disturb her and . Suddenly, it was too late for Iila to ponder just how close she could stand to her target because her target had just sat up and started putting on shoes.

A faint sheen of sweat appeared at the base of Iila's neck, hidden by the white cape whose saw-toothed edges hung just above her elbows. She scribbled faster; there was almost no time left. The crimson ascot felt too tight around her neck, but there was no time to loosen it now. Any minute, the one with the pretty blue eyes was going to walk away and-

Iila glanced up for another look and froze. Well, most of her froze. The pencil was still happily going at it as part of her mind ran on automatic. The other one had noticed her; this happened a lot, actually, and was usually followed by yelling or running away. Iila's face took on an expression of very bland terror as a couple of thoughts vied for attention in her head:

That would be perfect, one went, you can get a good look at her face.

Several of them wouldn't get off of the word 'food.'

It's a trick, another went, run for it!

Don't be daft, said the first, we can't run.

Next to Iila, the lid of her basket tipped up, just a little. Three sets of eyes peered out from the slit curiously, saw nothing at all, and sank back into the shadows. The lid dropped shut. A hurried little silent argument went on inside the basket as to what could be causing all the surprise, of everything that they saw. A pity, then, that they had looked in the complete opposite direction from Kyla.

Iila clutched her pad to her chest, flipped closed so as not to get pencil all over her blue dress, picked up her basket with the other hand, and started off after Kyla. This was all very confusing; nobody had suddenly invited her to dine after just seeing her, sketch or no sketch. Her sturdy boots clicked along quietly on the cobbles behind Kyla, entirely obviating the need for her host to need to look back.

Iila sniffed at air inside the building; beneath all of the cooking smells, especially that of sheep being put very close to a hot pan, the place smelled old. When her earstwhile host pulled out an alleged chair and sat down, Iila circled around to the side of the table and very carefully put down her basket. Then she opened her sketchpad and showed Kyla, a little rosy hue briefly touching Iila's cheek.

It really was a very nice drawing. However, it was unusual in that it was marked all over with what seemed to be dimensions and measurements in some kind of shorthand and absolutely no attention whatsoever had been paid to the background.

[Amber Eyes]

The mystic looked over the page and smiled, it really was a very good picture of her. It wasn’t an easy thing to put this much detail into a portrait from such a distance, Kyla had tried a few times. The main thing to catch her eye however wasn’t the talent involved but numbers alongside her features. She scrunched her nose as cups of water were delivered, smiling at the server before taking a small sip and focusing once more on the notepad.

“What are the numbers for?” She handed the sheet back to the strange girl, keeping her eyes trained on her face even though it was a struggle not to stare instead at the doll who still sat motionless upon the younger girl’s head.

The stranger answered after a brief pause, her eyes not quite meeting Kyla’s. “They are measurements.”

Kyla very nearly laughed, but covered it as best she could be reaching for her water again and forcing down a gulp. “You’re an interesting girl, miss…?”

The girl said nothing, staring down into her lap. Finally Kyla shook her head and clarified. “What is your name?”

Finally some sort of emotion filled the girl’s eyes, though it wasn’t clear to the mystic what that emotion was. “Iila.”

Kyla couldn’t decide if she should be amused by the awkwardness of the woman before her or if she should be irritated by the lack of conversation. Typically one word answers to questions frustrated her, but something about this girl made her incredibly likeable. It almost reminded Kyla of working with the young kids at the castle. “Just Iila? Or do you happen to have a second name?”

“Cenata”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. It’s nice to meet you Iila Cenata.” The mystic placed her finger upon the lip of the glass, tracing circles along the rim and listening to the soft whistle. “And why do you need my picture and my…measurements?”

Iila looked at the picture as she answered a hint of confusion in her tone. “For a doll.” She said the words plainly, as though her intentions should have been obvious.

Kyla fought the smile that threatened at her lips, “Who asked you to make a doll of me?”

The girl seemed confused by the question, mulling it over for a long time as they sat in silence save the continuing whistle coming from Kyla’s finger upon the water glass. “No one asked me.” Her reply finally came, and Kyla placed her hands back in her lap.

“Then why are you making one?” Kyla’s annoyance was beginning to show through.

“Because you are pretty.”

Kyla was taken aback, a little flattered and quite creeped out. “Thank you.” The phrase was a knee-jerk reaction to any compliment. “And what exactly do you plan to do with the doll?”

[absentwizard]

That question put Iila on a very long pause. The first problem was that there was no really good way to compress everything that she intends to do with the doll down into something that fits into a few words. It would be inaccurate to say that she was going to play with the doll because 'playing' is fundamentally a subset of the whole 'companionship' business. It would be incorrect to say that she wanted to collect the doll because 'collect', as she understood the term used by others, implied a passive, sitting-on-the-shelf kind of behavior that promoted jealousy and depression in dolls. One did not simply collect friends.

The second problem was that one did not simply do things to Iila's dolls. They were exactly as much people as Iila was; they all had a piece of her still-connected soul embedded in them. Quite often, they did things to Iila and even more often they did things to each other. Ever since a child got an ear-twisting after trying to steal Zanhae, however, Iila had stopped simply having everyone out and stretching their legs at all times.

Unlike many people, Iila does all of her thinking on the inside. Her expression didn't move and only the slight flitting of her eyes between some very distant points and the slow movements of her breathing marked the differences between one eternal moment and the next. This didn't help Kyla in the least.

Kyla could feel her irritation creep back after having been struck down by the compliment. She was also starting to get the odd feeling that the compliment might not have been intended as one and more in the way of stating facts. That was a complex thought, if-

"Show her her sisters and the world." Iila finally said, rather quietly and uncertainly.

"Sisters?" Kyla gave up the struggle and stared at the doll on Iila's head.

Iila nodded and the doll stayed firmly attached. She reached up and set that one down, then opened her basket lid and started retrieving from it. Kyla, being the inquisitive and also slightly, justifiably paranoid sort peeked in and saw no ends of sewing materials and small cloth bags of something. That was underneath all the dolls, though.

A minute later, there were six dolls sitting in neat rows. They were, certainly enough, sisters. Each one of them looked like a small copy of Iila, wore Iila's hair, and differed from each other in the colors of the eyes and the colors of the outfit. Through some devious design or simply an experienced handler, they were all sitting up even though they clearly articulated in almost every possible joint. Iila started introducing them, each with a pat on the head.
"Zanhae." That's the one with a black eyes, red ribbon on the head, and in a blue dress with white apron.
"Fenlaid." Green, red, and blue.
"Sanai." Green, yellow, and green.
"Minya." Blue, yellow, and white.
"Ira." Green, black, and black
"Valiae." Yellow, red, and black

"These are all you." Kyla observed.

Iila nodded, slightly, then a thought occured to her on the new opportunity presented here. She slid the pad over to the right of Valia, put one finger on the drawing of Kyla, and looked up at her.

"What is her name?"

[Amber Eyes]

Kyla sat for a moment just starring at the drawing. As soon as the question was asked, her head became flooded with memories of her child. How did she settle upon the name Akiv for her beautiful little boy? What made it feel ‘just right’ when she settled upon the name? Why was it so easy to stick to the one name for the remainder of her pregnancy? Naming this drawing of herself seemed just as complicated as naming a child.

This was not a child though. This was not a living, breathing thing. This was a caricature made as a reference point to create a young girl’s play thing. Kyla knew all of this, but still felt that she should consider all the options before coming across a decision. Several minutes passed, hundreds of names running through the mystic’s head, until she finally came across one that sort of ‘clicked’ in her mind.

“Kayla Marie,” Kyla smiled happily to the girl and nodded approvingly, “I think if I had to settle on a name, Kayla Marie fits just fine. Kayla and Kyla sound so cute together!” The young woman nearly squealed as she spoke, excitement starting to tingle throughout. It was silly to be this giddy, really, but Kyla didn’t care. In her mind, this doll would be Iila’s daughter. It only made sense to name the toy as if it were going to be the warriors own child.

“I know!” Kyla said with the same enthusiasm that was surging through her body, “I bet there’s tons of sewing materials at Ixian Castle! I bet we have the best materials to give her a great dress! Then we can introduce her to my sisters!” The thought of Anita’s jealous gaze upon the doll, and Ella’s happiness for her sister did nothing to quell the euphoric feeling in the girl’s heart.

“Come on,” Kyla said, placing some gold pieces down on the table and offering Iila her hand, “now Ixian Castle is a pretty far way from here, so if you have anyone you need to bring with you; a mom, dad, any other family member, bring them along. Consider it an official invitation from one of the Ixian Knights Nine Generals! Who knows? Maybe you’ll find some more ideas for dolls!”

[absentwizard]

Kaylamarie.

Iila turned the name over in her head and put it up to the vote. These extraordinary times called for extraordinary measures of government; at other times there was exactly one eligible voter in the Democracy of Iila.

<Too long!> Came the first and immediate protest. This was true; four syllables was twice as many as some of her sisters.

<Too sharp!> Came the simultaneous protest. This was true; no other name started with a plosive.

<Too foreign!> This protest was followed by a confused and stunned silence. The protestor, Sanai, withered under the mental staring and tried to defend herself rather feebly. <It means from far away places.>

<It is from across the table, no?>

<But~ The big-girl is from forgone places~>

<The word,> Sanai added pompously. <Is 'foreign'. Fore-nng>

<Umm... I like it aah.>

In the space of the staring silence, Iila lifted her basket and scooped her dolls into it in a single sweep, to various protests. Ira went back on her head, where the doll snuggled contently and didn't shift while Iila stood, smoothed out her dress, picked up the basket, and walked around to Kyla's side of the table.

"Kaylamarie." She repeated in confirmation. "I don't have Father and Mother left. I can go. What is Ixian Castle?"