So hi. Here's a new chapter. Only took me three years to post this slightly shoddy thing. Forgive.
Raine: Just post it and get the idiocy over with.
Thanks, Raine. Always there with a word of encouragement
Raine: ...Just don't.
You're a jerk. Happy pills.
Was it a blessing that she had lost consciousness sometime during the storm? …Most likely. She wasn't even certain how long she had been clinging to whatever it was she had been clinging to—nor what had actually, in the end, happened. She only knew she had fainted, or something, because at present she was finding herself waking up.
The first sensation to return was that of a dull, numb panic. Some part of her began to register that she was neither wet nor cold, and that she was on her back, but the remnants of whatever terror had gripped her relentlessly before the blackout were stronger and dominated her initial perception. She felt her heart skip and the adrenaline pulse through her veins, and she tried immediately to force her eyes to open. They didn't, though—not right away. Though anxiety took over and choked her breaths, her body was so utterly exhausted that it would not answer the commands of her will.
"Thayen tah vriel… Oma! Thayen tah vriel!"
Somewhere above her, hushed voices began to chatter. Something in the words was familiar, but they all sounded so hazy. Of course, these unknown voices did nothing to put her at ease, but they inspired a different sort of concern. Slowly, slowly, the icy dread began to ebb a little as her senses tuned into the world actually surrounding her.
Something firm but soft was beneath her and the air was warm and dry. The light she could make out through her heavy lids was dim, and it flickered now and then, as though cast by candles. There was some rustling of cloth from somewhere nearby, probably made by the shuffling movements of those she could hear whispering and mumbling. Her body ached—her arms in particular. She did not feel as sticky as she would have expected, and the fabric of her clothing was strangely soft against her skin. All of this together made her want more than ever to open her eyes and understand her situation.
A groan issued from her lips without her authorization. She was able to drag one hand up and drape it briefly over her face, which was a step in the right direction. Raine flexed her fingers slightly, willing function back into her muscles. Finally, finally, her eyes fluttered open a little. They were not much more than violet slits, but it was enough; enough to show her the shadows dancing on the wooden walls and ceiling in the erratic light that was, indeed, from several candles situated around the small room. It looked like there was a window on the adjacent wall, but a heavy curtain was drawn over it. She couldn't tell if it was morning or evening.
"Where…?" Her voice sounded so hoarse, it almost made her cringe. She did not retract the question, however. She had yet to actually see any of the speakers, but she knew they were there. Somewhere.
Suddenly, a face was in hers. Raine was startled despite herself, but she blinked up into the other gaze blearily. In the low light, she could just barely make out the color of the eyes staring back at her as purple, probably a smooth lavender hue. It was a woman—rather, a girl—if the delicate, youthful features were any indication. Her hair was long and light and fell around her shoulders. But as the stranger shook it back out of her way, Raine caught the final piece of evidence needed to place both the girl's appearance and the familiarity of the words she had heard: the tip of a long, slender and pointed ear poked out between the strands.
Elves.
Heimdall?
…Impossible.
Her expression must have betrayed her confusion and dismay, for the girl's brow furrowed and she tilted her head slowly and murmured questioningly in elvish. What horrified Raine further…was that she actually understood most of it, now that her mind was in working order again. It had to come back to her, but coming back it was.
"…You are unwell?" the lilting voice asked. "You are hurt?"
Haltingly, Raine shook her head. Every muscle in her body was tense, and the instinct of fight-or-flight was rising like bile in the back of her throat—but something else occurred to her rather suddenly.
Regal. Where was Regal?
She made to sit up slowly, her joints stiff, but her hard gaze never left these strangers—for as she shifted positions, she could see two other girls hovering nearby. She looked from one to the next until her eyes fell back to the one closest, who currently resembled a very attentive and skittish mother hen. "You are lucky," the girl informed her, smiling gently. To Raine, it looked only condescending.
The language, considered exotic and beautiful by so many, was grating on her own ears. She couldn't stand that false, seraphic song. And the concern they seemed to show made her skin crawl. It must have been more than obvious to these people what she was, so why should they treat her with any genuine kindness? Her jaw stiff and set, she got straight to the point. She wanted out of this unnerving scene, and soon.
"Where is my companion?" she demanded in crisp, pointed common. She would not humor them in sharing their language. She would not play that game. "The man I was with. Where is he?"
Her supposed caretaker blinked at her, having pulled back a couple of inches in surprise and what looked like confusion. She shared a glance with the other two, neither of whom offered anything more coherent. When the three sets of eyes landed back on the half-elf, every head tilted in eerie unison, and there was silence through the room as everyone just stared. Raine could feel the irritation growing, and she was in no mood to toy around.
"I know you understand me," she growled, her words coming out perhaps a little more harshly than intended, but she did not regret it. She shifted to sit on the side of the bed, or cot, or whatever she had been laying on, and stared down the three girls. "Just tell me where he is."
The stranger in front glanced around again, looking rather distressed. Her smooth, pale brow creased, and she shook her own head gently, very much at a loss. Slowly, slowly, Raine felt her shoulders relax. The anger in her face melted to a frown, and after a long moment, she unclenched the hand she hadn't even realized had formed a fist. "….You can't…understand me," she murmured, more to herself.
…Where was she? Everyone in Heimdall knew the human language, as far as she was aware; but Heimdall was the only true elvish settlement she know of, too. Unless this wasn't a town, but merely a few loners. That didn't make much sense, either, though. A dull ache began to creep up into her temple, and she closed her eyes. First things first: Regal.
She opened her eyes and leveled them square and unyielding on the young woman closest to her. She was still not inclined to spend any more time with elves than she absolutely had to…but she would have to stoop to using the language if she was to get anywhere with these people. The thought alone left a nasty taste in her mouth, but the pragmatist in her swallowed it and pushed through. "My…" She paused, trying to search her memory for the words she wanted. Many, many years had passed since she had let them pass her lips. "Friend. My friend. Where is he?"
The violet eyes facing hers brightened with relief and glee, or perhaps simple recognition. Raine felt a muscle in her face twitch in distaste; no doubt they were just glad they wouldn't have to deal with some backwards half-breed who couldn't even have the decency to speak their tongue. Nonetheless, a wide smile split the girl's pretty face. "Handsome man? Different, very lovely."
Raine lifted one eyebrow. She was not at all sure she hadn't heard wrong, but she shook her head in exasperation and frustration. "Yes. Where?"
There was a startling flurry of movement as the trio sprang into action. She tensed again, feeling and probably looking like a cat ready to bolt. All of their energy and enthusiasm only served to make her more nervous, her patience already thin and bearing no leeway for further testing. Eventually, two of them shuffled toward the door while the third, the apparent spokesperson, came forward bearing a bundle of some sort in her arms. All of them watched her expectantly as this bundle was offered, and Raine dropped her gaze to it in nothing less than suspicion. There was little she felt capable of doing, in fact, without suspicion.
"Dress." The girl paused, then giggled in a manner she found most unpleasant. "Unless you want your friend to see this."
A frown creased her brow, and these words prompted her for the first time to actually look down at herself. The soft fabric she had felt against her skin, she now saw to be, very obviously, underclothing. There was no trace of the clothes with which she remembered boarding the ship, and in their place was a light, almost silken pair of modest undergarments. Color crept unbidden into her cheeks and lingered for a moment before she could effectively banish it; this new….outfit, if such it could be called, and her state of relatively neat grooming, raised questions, concerns, and realties of the time she had spent here unconscious about which she cared very little to ponder. Instead, with a jerk of her head, she looked up to the bundle of cloth again.
"…My clothing?" She did not want to dress like these people, and even the barest glance made clear the elvish flair in whatever articles they offered.
Again, the girl looked puzzled as she glanced down over her burden. She turned it this way and that for a moment in a quick inspection and then slowly held it out again. "Soiled. It was burned. This will fit you; it is comfortable and very lovely."
Raine felt another spark of anger rise in her already-churning gut. They had burned her belongings? "You had no right," she snapped, lapsing out of the sickly-sweet melody of Elvish. The rage ebbed quickly, though, settling into a dull smolder. Logically, her own clothes would very likely have been unfit for wearing, but to burn them? To destroy them, as though to banish anything from their perfect society that did not look and feel like their own? Though such a conclusion was harsh and, perhaps, unfounded, she couldn't shake it. But there was nothing else to be done. She had to find Regal, and they had to leave.
She set her jaw and reached out one hand carefully toward the girl who persistently offered the clothes in her arms. Her outburst had sent a startled ripple of confusion, or something similar, through the little gathering—but they seemed pleased beyond all else when she finally closed her fingers around the fabric and tugged it forward. It wasn't until her actions caused the article to unfurl and unfold that it became her turn to be startled to see just what it was they wanted her to wear.
"…A dress."
This time her voice bore no hostility, so though her self-proclaimed attendants, or guards, or whatever they would call themselves could not understand her somewhat flat, unimpressed words, they just kept smiling as though they knew they were offering some sort of precious treasure to her. Clearly, they saw nothing wrong with this picture.
After a long moment, she pulled the garment into her lap in resignation; it was her only option. That seemed to be a recurring theme of this day. Raine sighed softly to herself, but she nodded. "Fine." Gathering the folds of the skirt, she made to stand and dress with the assumption that the girls would leave her to some semblance of privacy so she could wriggle into this infernal dress. Alas, she had no such luck. The two by the door did slip through it and vanish, but she was not to be left alone by this, the most outspoken. Despite the shaking of her head and the protests she tried to make in both languages, her little maiden was bound and determined to play dress-up with this life-sized doll at her disposal.
A doll who, as she was prodded and manipulated and positioned, disliked the experience. Immensely.
At last, it was over. Raine was actually glad there was no mirror readily apparent in the room, so she couldn't see how stupid she looked. The feeling was bad enough. She shifted uncomfortably in the loose sleeves and skirt. It was a relatively simple dress—merciful goddess Martel—probably meant for casual wear, but it was still a dress. And it was still elvish.
"Come. Fee and Nya will have found your friend by now. He will be most impressed." The young lady reached out and took her hand, glowing with a bright smile, and before she knew it, she was being pulled out of the dimly candlelit room and into the setting sun.
….Impressed. That was not the word she would have chosen.
I enjoyed writing from jaded-Raine's point of view.
Raine: You do understand that I am right here and in no way believe you to have any authoritative grasp on my character-
Raine, I'm an English Major. I'm reading enough haughty literature and essays. I don't need you going Professor on me.
Raine: I hate you.
I know. :3
