A/N: I'm fairly happy with how this turned out. If you think the time frames or chronology is wonky, let me know. I can fix it. Reviews are lovely, and constructive criticism is always welcome. I hope you enjoy!
...
In stories, slaying a dragon is something to celebrate. You brag about how you escaped many close calls, drunkenly brandish a bone you took back as proof – all your friends and admirers laugh in awe and disbelief.
But this isn't fiction. Dragons are not mythical beasts; they were once people. Lailah had gently suggested sharing stories, but Edna doesn't want to share. She wants to lay flat on her back – hard planks of bench wood biting into her back – and just count the stars. Stars like thousands of memories. Eventually they would die, but you wouldn't notice. Not right away. Not until it was too late to save it. From the gloomy recesses of her mourning, she takes a strange pleasure from the dull ache from laying on the bench and the sharp sting of her eyes that have cried themselves out.
Edna doesn't feel ashamed for crying. For losing herself to her grief in front of her friends. The only shame she feels is for her helplessness, for the centuries of denial.
Someone approaches, but she can't hear their footsteps over the sound of her own thoughts. She senses him when he stops next to her. She knows who it is without looking.
"Don't say anything," Edna commands. "I don't want your sympathy."
"Hey." Zaveid's protest is soft, perhaps even a bit hurt.
"I miss him too," he says.
There is no comical, childish whine, no exaggerated gestures. He's dead serious and at least for that, Edna is grateful.
"If you're going to miss him, do it quietly then." Edna turns her head to catch Zaveid's expression. It's shadowed beneath the brim of Dezel's hat.
But he nods, sits next to her on the ground. Edna doesn't move from where she is, shackled to the bench by grief. She closes her eyes, knowing both their thoughts are going back to him.
…
When Edna first came into existence, she didn't realize it at first, but she had an audience.
The first words Edna ever heard spoken were "Holy crap, kid, you startled me!" followed by "For the love of Maotelus put some clothes on!"
Edna looked down at her unadorned body. If it weren't for this other person's reaction, she probably wouldn't have felt deep embarrassment. But she did now, cheeks flushing crimson.
"Here, take this," he said next. He took off his coat and threw it around Edna's shoulders like a shawl.
Edna tried to put arms through sleeves, but several inches separated her hands from the openings at their end. They both tried to roll the sleeves up but it came quickly apparent it was an exercise in futility. She would just have to resign herself to swimming in this man's clothes. At least the bottom of the coat stopped before touching the ground, so she wouldn't trip on the hem.
She didn't bother with the buttons. She simply folded one side over the other, and tightly tied the belt to secure them in place. Having done that, Edna finally looked up at him and took in his features. He was blond, like she was, but where her hair was the yellow-gold of sunflowers, his was a flaxen blond. His eyes were blue like the cloudless summer skies. She wondered what color hers were but thought it was probably a stupid question to ask, so she didn't.
"How did you end up here?" the man asked.
His voice was low and familial, like he was speaking to a lost child. Maybe he was. Edna wasn't sure. She had no memory of before this place – before meeting him.
"I don't know," Edna replied. "I was just here. And then you were here too."
His entire face lit up in unchecked awe. It was awkward to be the object of such fascination. Edna unconsciously tried to make herself small, or smaller than she already was anyway.
"You must be new!" he laughed. "I've never seen a baby seraph before."
"I'm not a baby." Edna felt the need to correct this misunderstanding. What worldly knowledge she began with told her babies were tiny things, helpless and fragile – and they also frequently made messes and kept their parents up all night. She definitely wasn't one of those.
"I don't have any parents," she added for clarity. She had no idea how she knew this, but it felt true.
He was still grinning stupidly.
"I was once a baby too, and I don't have any parents either."
Edna took measurements, from head to toe. "Were you always that tall?"
He laughed again. "Indeed, I was."
Edna's eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. You couldn't possibly be a tall baby. That was an oxymoron.
"How about we get you some clothes of your own and I'll explain on the way. The name's Eizen; I'm an earth seraph like you. What do I call you?"
Her response was automatic: "Edna."
They were on a mountain. As they spiraled down the winding trails to the base, Eizen told her how babies were made. First he educated her on the birth of seraph babies. They weren't babies, per se, they were born into the world in the form that they would remain for the rest of their lives, though sometimes, dying children were made the vessel of a seraph and would grow into adulthood with everlasting youth. Edna's face was bright as a cherry tomato for the duration of Eizen's explanation of how humans make babies, and for some time afterward.
"So... do seraphim not have families?"
"Not biologically like humans do," Eizen replied. "To seraphim, family is the people closest to you, and who care for you. People you love with all your heart and who love you back. Or the people you grew up with."
Edna halted, curling her bare toes against the hard rock and knitting her brow. Eizen was there when she was born, and now he was getting her clothes.
Eizen stopped too and turned to face her.
"Does that mean you're my family?" Edna asked.
Eizen's face split into an ear-to-ear grin.
"Sure! I've always wanted a cute little sister! And we do look like we could be related, were we human. It's perfect. Well?"
Edna nodded. It seemed like a reasonable idea. After all, she knew very little of this world and some guidance couldn't hurt. She was even more curious now what color her eyes were.
Eventually, he took her to a small village and guided her into what Edna's limited library of facts told her was a store. Shelves and racks displayed many styles of clothes.
"Go on and find something you like," Eizen told her.
Edna was immediately drawn to a short black dress. She ran the fabric between her fingers. It was silky sleek. Eizen took note of the article that caught her eye.
"Not bad, not bad," he said, walking over. He pulled something else off the rack. "But I think this is more your color, don't you?"
He held up a dress, identical to the one she'd found except it was yellow.
"Very spring, very earthy," Eizen continued as if he were a salesperson on the floor.
"I like it." Her agreement was accompanied by a subtle smile.
"All right, then sunshine it is!"
Edna modeled it in front of the mirror, secretly satisfied that her eyes were the same as her adoptive brother's.
"Now I believe it is customary that I buy you ice cream," Eizen said.
"What's ice cream?" asked Edna.
"Ohohoho, you'll see."
…
Just fourteen years later, she met Zaveid.
"Okay, try again," said Eizen.
Edna closed her eyes, twirling the umbrella-catalyst Eizen recently got her as a gift. She breathed deep, reciting the incantation once more. Then...
"Terra Mine!"
"Whoa! Watch where you point that thing."
The rock Edna had launched zipped by the ear of a silver-haired seraph she'd never seen before.
"Put on a shirt and I'll consider it," Edna retorted.
"Yo, Eizen, where'd you find this dazzling ray of sunshine? She's such a cutie pie."
His sarcasm grated Edna's nerves. His whole everything grated on her.
"On this very mountain, in fact." Eizen greeted him with a smile. "Long time no see, Zaveid."
"You know him?" Edna asked.
"I do," was Eizen's answer.
"Why do you look happy to see him?"
"...Why wouldn't I?
"Because he's an asshat."
"He's my friend."
"Then you have poor taste in friends."
Zaveid actually guffawed. Eizen sighed.
"You've just met. You don't know him-" Eizen began.
"I know enough." Edna cast a poisonous glance at the wind seraph.
"You shouldn't be so quick to judge people, Edna." The chastisement in Eizen's tone was infuriating, even if it was a true statement.
Edna grumbled and went back to practicing her artes. She conceded that if Zaveid was Eizen's friend, she could try to tolerate him. Try being the operative word here.
…
By the time Edna's second Age of Chaos came around, she hated humans.
"It's only been two hundred years, before they've gotten themselves into another mess. Their stupidity threatens the entire world. It's not worth-"
"Seraphim can become hellions too," Eizen interrupted her pleas. "I'm not volunteering as a Sub Lord just for the humans. I'm doing it for us – for everyone."
He placed a hand on her shoulder – meant to reassure. Instead it loosed the torrent of tears Edna had been forcing back. Eizen caught Edna up in his arms, gently running calloused fingers through her soft hair. She sobbed into his shoulder.
"Should anything happen, you can always go to Zaveid," Eizen whispered.
The words were muffled by his shirt, but unmistakeable: "I hate that idiot."
"I know." Eizen let her go to reach into his pocket. "Which is why I want you to have this; it's a good luck charm."
From the moment the item touched her palm, Edna could feel an energy emanating from it. It was warm too, probably from being in her brother's pocket. A little normin doll was looking up at her, and she couldn't help but get the strong feeling the doll could actually see her. She shook the thought away.
Edna rubbed away the tears on her forearm.
"You'll come back," she said. It wasn't a question.
"I'll come back. I promise."
Eizen held out his pinky. Edna curled hers around it.
"I'll wait for you, so don't you dare die."
She watched him go. Her entire world shrinking as his back retreated down the mountain path, a vacuous hole ripping seams open in her heart. But its pull wasn't strong enough to stop Eizen from leaving. It would be empty until he returned, Edna was sure of it.
…
Edna waited. For a half-century, she waited for her big brother.
Eizen had changed, but he kept his promise.
He came back to her, his beloved little sister.
He came home.
But it was already too late.
…
~ Fin