the runaway lilin.
Mar. 25th, 2009 10:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
from_the_west[n.b: reposted from here.]
In every land, hardness is in the north of it, softness in the south, industry in the east, and fire and inspiration in the west.
*******************
She had barely escaped the desert in the east with her own skin; she knew she was headed in the right direction when the rain began. She didn't stop running. She knew better than that. She ran until the soles of her feet split upon the rough earth, she ran until her breath clawed at her raw throat and her heart faltered in her chest, her arms went numb, and she could scarcely hear over the sounds of her own exhaustion; she strained to hear anyway, even knowing that it was useless, for her sisters hunted in silence. She recklessly claimed the heart and soul of a lone boatman to get passage across the rocky, wind-tossed Short Sea, and left an empty, staring thing, still pleading feebly for her return, to mark the place when she stepped to solid ground. She dropped briefly to her hands and knees in shaky relief. That one act of violence, of unlawful possession, might serve to make her a great deal less welcome. It didn't matter. She could not think of her reception, could not think of anything beyond reaching her destination. She had nowhere else to go. Her options had narrowed to the space of a single door.
********************
Most faery tales start out with a once upon a time. But that would imply that these things had only happened once. And not, say, the fourth time in barely more than a half century. Which, Gavian added in retrospect, might be considered perhaps a bit excessive.
She had thought this, when she opened the door on a very cliché and storybook sort of dark and rainy night, and a few countless billions of other things. What she'd actually wanted to say was "Oh, shit," in the exasperated sort of way that one says "oh, shit" after one has dropped their toast jam side down. As it turned out, she didn't say anything at all for a while, but simply stared down at what time and circumstance, a trip to Avalon, a window carelessly left open to the night air, and a no doubt particularly virulent bout of madness had wrought.
And the lili on the doorstep glowered back in her own distinctly defiant way, huge shining black eyes in a pale moon face, less framed than under siege by a mop of disheveled dripping black hair, shivering and drenched to the bone, clutching a very tell-tale bundle in her arms. She looked much less a much-feared deamhanic temptress and enemy than a sullen teenage runaway in a great deal of trouble. Which she was, in both the purely parallel, and the more direct, immediate and visceral sense. Her kin would not be pleased. She would not be able to return home, and the isle had monsters of its own. The choice was not a choice at all, either for the lili to come here, or the fravashi that guarded the threshold. Gavian nodded a curt welcome, and stepped aside. The girl stepped past her in a haughty, hostile silence, and then nearly dropped the bundle as she gave vent to a terrible sneezing fit. Gavian automatically reached to steady her arm, and the girl jerked away with a fierce sneer and regarded Gavian warily from just out of reach, while invisible wings raised and mantled.
"I'm not going to hurt you." Gavian sighed and tried to smooth her own ruffled wings. It was not in her to wonder why some fravashi had fallen so much further than others. To all things a reason and a purpose. Granted, she had nothing to fear from the children of their ancient foe; their power was negligible, and really she ought to know better than to let the mere glimpse of a distorted reflection trouble her. And this one, this one had come to them, seeking shelter. Oh, how angry her dam must be. This was all the thinking it took to bring the exasperation to heel before she went searching for the mind of the Ard Ri--it was still more mental grappling than she cared to be bothered with. His attention was so bright and immediate, that there was little doubt that he'd been watching from afar.
"Lugh Lamhfada Samildanach Mac Ethlenn, Ard Ri of Tirnanog Iona and all her territories across the Short Sea, what have you done?" Gavian demanded.
His mental voice was warm and shook with silent, unrepentant laughter. "If you must know, Dear Lady, I'll tell you plain, but you'll forgive me, as it may well serve to make you blush. First there was a removal of garments and under-garments--not that either of us was wearing much to begin with on account that Avalon is just that damnably warm--for that matter, I do believe I was entirely bare-assed, after all, I was already in bed--"
"--I am well-acquainted with the process by which children are created."
"You are?" The first in an absurdly convincing tone of shock, the last mock-accusing to the point of childishness. "Gavi! I never knew. You never tell me anything."
"...Now you're being purely ridiculous. That was meant in a purely observational sense, and you damn well know it." Gavian sighed. It was a process she'd observed few times more than she cared to, really, but that was neither here nor there.
"Ah, so none have yet to claim the passion of your most prized heart; a low fool like myself can yet dream to win!"
"Never mind my heart, will you--"
He was there before she could finish, fading in at mid-stride as he crossed the room, blazing and golden like late summer sun, and he offered the girl a tiny, perfect rose of that self-same color, petals, leaves and thorns, still lingering warm from the forge. Lugh addressed her in the same distinctive sing-song that bound his thoughts. "Welcome to Tirnanog Iona, Lilith. Welcome to my house, my Brugh Forradh an Danann." The sullen scowl dropped from the lili's face and she smiled, just a little, and carefully turned the bundle around in her arms, offering a silent plea along with the child, if the suddenly worried expression she turned on Tirnanog's High King was of any indication.
"Shh, sianthe a tiu, Lilith-mé. No harm may come to you here. A daughter again? I'd hoped for another daughter! Now Jia won't be lonely. Jealous, perhaps. I am cursed with far too much beauty all in one place." He crooned, more obviously to soothe mother than the fascinated, wide-eyed babe.
Gavian sighed and gently caught the girl's attention. "Lilith, he calls you?"
"Tá. My proper name's not meant for your ears; or more especially, your tongues." She snapped coldly. Blunt and forward--truth in the hands of a shadow, always given with claws and teeth bared, blade and barbs outward to cut the hearer. It was when the lilin spoke sweetly, that one need fear. That was when truth became twisted into a seductive lie, became the honey that gilded the bear trap. Gavian extended a polite and gracious hand, gesturing down the hall to a patient 'chaun.
"Maibel will see you to your room and get you whatever you need."
Lilith nodded and reached for the infant--Lugh simply shooed her away, as he settled into a chair by the hearth. "Bath and dry clothes, first." In a tone that undoubtedly a command, though it never lost an iota of its sunny good cheer. "Me and the wee one, we'll be here getting acquainted, tá."
There was a brief flicker of something purely vicious across the creature's face; for a moment there was a failing in her disguise, and her proper form was there for those that chose to see it, but then her shoulders slumped a bit and she was naught but a very battered and travel-sore young woman again. She followed the 'chaun almost meekly, such a picture of defeated exhaustion that Gavian found room for pity. She waited until the lili was safely out of earshot before she gave Samildanach Rí a stern glare.
"....Yes, Gavian?" He said eventually, without looking up.
"You really ought to be ashamed of yourself."
"Hmm, that's the trouble with ought, tá? What ought to be so rarely ever is." And then he laughed softly, when her feathers ruffled. "Come now Gavi, I'd say on your part, you ought to know better--Ah! I think the wee one smiled at me. Did you see?"
And when Gavian's expression did not soften in the least, he finally gave her something akin to a properly thought out response.
"This brugh could use a deamhan, to spot any others that might come calling with wicked intent, especially when I'm away. A wolf in the house to keep the wolves outside at bay." He said, cheerfully addressing half of his remarks to the baby on his arm. "We'll see to it that she doesn't want for anything, so she'll neither regret nor give her cause to turn on us."
To this, Gavian gave approval, or her own less commonly seen version of it, and that was how something as unlikely as a half-drowned and desperate young lili from Avalon came to be part of Lugh Samildanach's court.
In every land, hardness is in the north of it, softness in the south, industry in the east, and fire and inspiration in the west.
*******************
She had barely escaped the desert in the east with her own skin; she knew she was headed in the right direction when the rain began. She didn't stop running. She knew better than that. She ran until the soles of her feet split upon the rough earth, she ran until her breath clawed at her raw throat and her heart faltered in her chest, her arms went numb, and she could scarcely hear over the sounds of her own exhaustion; she strained to hear anyway, even knowing that it was useless, for her sisters hunted in silence. She recklessly claimed the heart and soul of a lone boatman to get passage across the rocky, wind-tossed Short Sea, and left an empty, staring thing, still pleading feebly for her return, to mark the place when she stepped to solid ground. She dropped briefly to her hands and knees in shaky relief. That one act of violence, of unlawful possession, might serve to make her a great deal less welcome. It didn't matter. She could not think of her reception, could not think of anything beyond reaching her destination. She had nowhere else to go. Her options had narrowed to the space of a single door.
********************
Most faery tales start out with a once upon a time. But that would imply that these things had only happened once. And not, say, the fourth time in barely more than a half century. Which, Gavian added in retrospect, might be considered perhaps a bit excessive.
She had thought this, when she opened the door on a very cliché and storybook sort of dark and rainy night, and a few countless billions of other things. What she'd actually wanted to say was "Oh, shit," in the exasperated sort of way that one says "oh, shit" after one has dropped their toast jam side down. As it turned out, she didn't say anything at all for a while, but simply stared down at what time and circumstance, a trip to Avalon, a window carelessly left open to the night air, and a no doubt particularly virulent bout of madness had wrought.
And the lili on the doorstep glowered back in her own distinctly defiant way, huge shining black eyes in a pale moon face, less framed than under siege by a mop of disheveled dripping black hair, shivering and drenched to the bone, clutching a very tell-tale bundle in her arms. She looked much less a much-feared deamhanic temptress and enemy than a sullen teenage runaway in a great deal of trouble. Which she was, in both the purely parallel, and the more direct, immediate and visceral sense. Her kin would not be pleased. She would not be able to return home, and the isle had monsters of its own. The choice was not a choice at all, either for the lili to come here, or the fravashi that guarded the threshold. Gavian nodded a curt welcome, and stepped aside. The girl stepped past her in a haughty, hostile silence, and then nearly dropped the bundle as she gave vent to a terrible sneezing fit. Gavian automatically reached to steady her arm, and the girl jerked away with a fierce sneer and regarded Gavian warily from just out of reach, while invisible wings raised and mantled.
"I'm not going to hurt you." Gavian sighed and tried to smooth her own ruffled wings. It was not in her to wonder why some fravashi had fallen so much further than others. To all things a reason and a purpose. Granted, she had nothing to fear from the children of their ancient foe; their power was negligible, and really she ought to know better than to let the mere glimpse of a distorted reflection trouble her. And this one, this one had come to them, seeking shelter. Oh, how angry her dam must be. This was all the thinking it took to bring the exasperation to heel before she went searching for the mind of the Ard Ri--it was still more mental grappling than she cared to be bothered with. His attention was so bright and immediate, that there was little doubt that he'd been watching from afar.
"Lugh Lamhfada Samildanach Mac Ethlenn, Ard Ri of Tirnanog Iona and all her territories across the Short Sea, what have you done?" Gavian demanded.
His mental voice was warm and shook with silent, unrepentant laughter. "If you must know, Dear Lady, I'll tell you plain, but you'll forgive me, as it may well serve to make you blush. First there was a removal of garments and under-garments--not that either of us was wearing much to begin with on account that Avalon is just that damnably warm--for that matter, I do believe I was entirely bare-assed, after all, I was already in bed--"
"--I am well-acquainted with the process by which children are created."
"You are?" The first in an absurdly convincing tone of shock, the last mock-accusing to the point of childishness. "Gavi! I never knew. You never tell me anything."
"...Now you're being purely ridiculous. That was meant in a purely observational sense, and you damn well know it." Gavian sighed. It was a process she'd observed few times more than she cared to, really, but that was neither here nor there.
"Ah, so none have yet to claim the passion of your most prized heart; a low fool like myself can yet dream to win!"
"Never mind my heart, will you--"
He was there before she could finish, fading in at mid-stride as he crossed the room, blazing and golden like late summer sun, and he offered the girl a tiny, perfect rose of that self-same color, petals, leaves and thorns, still lingering warm from the forge. Lugh addressed her in the same distinctive sing-song that bound his thoughts. "Welcome to Tirnanog Iona, Lilith. Welcome to my house, my Brugh Forradh an Danann." The sullen scowl dropped from the lili's face and she smiled, just a little, and carefully turned the bundle around in her arms, offering a silent plea along with the child, if the suddenly worried expression she turned on Tirnanog's High King was of any indication.
"Shh, sianthe a tiu, Lilith-mé. No harm may come to you here. A daughter again? I'd hoped for another daughter! Now Jia won't be lonely. Jealous, perhaps. I am cursed with far too much beauty all in one place." He crooned, more obviously to soothe mother than the fascinated, wide-eyed babe.
Gavian sighed and gently caught the girl's attention. "Lilith, he calls you?"
"Tá. My proper name's not meant for your ears; or more especially, your tongues." She snapped coldly. Blunt and forward--truth in the hands of a shadow, always given with claws and teeth bared, blade and barbs outward to cut the hearer. It was when the lilin spoke sweetly, that one need fear. That was when truth became twisted into a seductive lie, became the honey that gilded the bear trap. Gavian extended a polite and gracious hand, gesturing down the hall to a patient 'chaun.
"Maibel will see you to your room and get you whatever you need."
Lilith nodded and reached for the infant--Lugh simply shooed her away, as he settled into a chair by the hearth. "Bath and dry clothes, first." In a tone that undoubtedly a command, though it never lost an iota of its sunny good cheer. "Me and the wee one, we'll be here getting acquainted, tá."
There was a brief flicker of something purely vicious across the creature's face; for a moment there was a failing in her disguise, and her proper form was there for those that chose to see it, but then her shoulders slumped a bit and she was naught but a very battered and travel-sore young woman again. She followed the 'chaun almost meekly, such a picture of defeated exhaustion that Gavian found room for pity. She waited until the lili was safely out of earshot before she gave Samildanach Rí a stern glare.
"....Yes, Gavian?" He said eventually, without looking up.
"You really ought to be ashamed of yourself."
"Hmm, that's the trouble with ought, tá? What ought to be so rarely ever is." And then he laughed softly, when her feathers ruffled. "Come now Gavi, I'd say on your part, you ought to know better--Ah! I think the wee one smiled at me. Did you see?"
And when Gavian's expression did not soften in the least, he finally gave her something akin to a properly thought out response.
"This brugh could use a deamhan, to spot any others that might come calling with wicked intent, especially when I'm away. A wolf in the house to keep the wolves outside at bay." He said, cheerfully addressing half of his remarks to the baby on his arm. "We'll see to it that she doesn't want for anything, so she'll neither regret nor give her cause to turn on us."
To this, Gavian gave approval, or her own less commonly seen version of it, and that was how something as unlikely as a half-drowned and desperate young lili from Avalon came to be part of Lugh Samildanach's court.
