A Comedy of Errors
Part Eleven
Harv-5 has never been thought of as a typical machine -if there is such a thing- by anyone, considered a rarity since he came off the assembly line and now the last of his kind to be in one piece. Even with circumstances of his production aside, he is far from typical. The Gadgeteers made him with a power source that was only meant to sustain him for a couple decades. Fifty years at most. At least, that is how long it was meant to last. As such happened with all the other harvesters the battery died out after little more than ten years, after which Harv spent the next few years gathering dust in a barn. He didn't move again until a Gadgeteer -who even now goes unnamed- made a few minor repairs and replaced the power source with...something else.
This something was an unusual, flesh toned and glowing crystal that is housed in the region of his chest similar to a human's heart. It doesn't throb like a human's heart, isn't vital to pushing oil and lubricant through his body, though if it should ever stop, so would he. No one really knows for certain where the strange sort of jewel came from, but there was a somewhat definite rumor as to what it is: the remains of Metaboline's last Mage King. And every once in a while, Harv's personality -or lack thereof- would drastically change, reflecting someone else entirely.
Perhaps that would explain how he feels -in the capacity that an automaton can feel- now as he keeps the door of Griffon's room. He examines the entirety of his tenure as the captain of Metaboline's royal guard, watching the soon-to-be-wed Mage King being fussed over by numerous attendants and tailors. He had watched the boy grow into a man, protected him with all his nuts and bolts, and while his robot self is unfazed the heavy seeming crystal in his chest hums with something he doesn't really know. He has a name for it, knows it by proxy from his time among humans, but it is unfamiliar to himself. Pride perhaps. A form of relief even, a burden given up. He has to wonder if human parents ever feel something similar. According to Estrella they do.
The entirety of Metaboline is in a tizzy, anticipating the wedding come the morrow. Although it could be, more presently, over the impending arrival of the numerous foreign delegates that are said to arrive in the next few hours. Griffon has every intention of taking advantage of his wedding to show good faith and fellowship to his neighbors, any ensuing alliances would be crucial to his kingdom's survival. But that isn't the only reason; all of Arkose and Wyldern had come together to make it through the worst, so why not do so again to appreciate the fruits of their labors? And who doesn't enjoy weddings?
Harv could say as much, if he were of the mind either way. Neutral is his preferred natural state, though he thinks there might be a mild buzz of anxiety in himself somewhere. The harvester had been known to get excited from time to time, particularly when the chance of seeing his friends is in his favor. Supposedly, according to the sprawling guest list anyhow, all of his companions would be attending the event. He hasn't seen hide nor hair of Xero or Jirina in years. He...misses them. Yes, he misses them, enough so that he requested a brief reprieve from his duties to meet them once the ships arrive. So long as his other appointment didn't keep him too long.
Clemett had been commissioned by Griffon to do some routine maintenance as well as refit Harv with a new body. Something about the captain of the guard shouldn't be clunking around the castle in the remains of one of Hokum's Deathbots just didn't seem right. Harv has no reservations to the idea, regarding the procedure as one would consider changing their clothes. It wouldn't cause him his own particular manifestations of pain, and he would be powered down for only a few minutes, so there is nothing to be uneasy about. Well, maybe one thing...he had yet to see his new body. What if he didn't like it? What if it made him look...silly? What if he had to get rid of his straw hat?! No, that last circumstance he simply wouldn't tolerate.
Once the fitting concludes Harv is given leave to wait for the Gadgeteers' arrival. Already in the early afternoon he could see the dark pinprick of Eyre's silhouette in the sky, perhaps another hour and the flying city would be docking. As large as the flying city is, the ground doesn't shudder when it touches down and docks. He continues to wait, not moving from his spot even as a massive door slides upward to allow a trio of Gadgeteers to disembark. Harv greets them all in turn, though only one is familiar, and escorts them into and through the palace.
"The smithy has offered his shop, if that would be satisfactory to you."
"Oh sure, bot, that should be fine." Clemett nods. "Have you seen the new you yet?"
"I have not."
He nods again. "Any one else here?"
"No. Though I would imagine the admiral won't be much longer. The Wyldernians won't arrive until after dark; the queen thought the arrangement more considerate to their subterranean preferences."
"Quick thinkin'."
"Indeed." Harv adjusts his hat. "If it is possible, I would like to meet them when they arrive. Could I ask that of you?"
"I can certainly try, but don't expect me to risk a shoddy job over it."
"Of course not. I have total confidence in you."
"Aw, thanks."
The idle chit-chat continues even after the four of them settle into the smithy's now empty shop, giving the Gadgeteers all the space they needed to work. They sit Harv on a stool and start looking over him, making note of any repairs that would need to be done before beginning the refitting. From here Harv can see the parts of his new body: a collection of pieces of Metabolinian royal armor, some of it having been gently -albeit crudely- modified. Although he liked the griffin motif on the bronze breastplate. Terribly fancy.
"Alright, haystack, we have to start taking some pieces off. You need to power down or are you okay with that?"
"I am fine. Do what you must."
Without a flinch or wayward glance Harv sits through them beginning to disassemble him. All of his joints are parted one by one, the foot from the ankle from the lower leg from the knee. If he could express his feelings on his face, it would show all the neutrality of someone folding their laundry. One would imagine that having your limbs taken apart in front of you would at least raise an eyebrow.
"We'll have to replace some of these ball joints...might take an hour or two longer."
"So be it."
"My boys and I are going to move you to the table over there, okay?"
"Very well. Mind my hat."
Under the cowl, Clemett smiles. "I'll watch it like my own podling."
"That is actually...comforting. Thank you."
"You bet."
Harv listens to them working as he lies there, staring at the ceiling. Steel grinding steel, the flash of sparks casting red flickers above him. Clemett asks if he is all right every now and then, receiving the same answer of fine every time. He starts to twiddle his thumbs while they're still attached, only mildly entertaining himself. When they are removed he simply lays there, mimicking a shrug.
"It's time to power you down." Clemett leans over him, sure he's got the robot's attention.
"All right."
"Sweet dreams, haystack."
"But I don't-," the lights go out behind the glass visor before he can finish.
The harvester comes back again to see the world in much the same manner her had before. He looks up into the goggled, covered faces of the Gadgeteers and the halo of light above them.
"You with us?"
"I am."
"You know who I am?"
"I do, Clemett."
"Good. Why don't you try movin' around a little?"
His joints don't whistle and whine as he sits up, feeling the phantom connection of all his parts as they begin moving again. There is an unusual sound ringing through his new bronze shell, it's soft but noticeable. Pieces of leather cover the joints of his knees and elbow, his new boots made of the same material that gives as his feet bend within. All that remains of his previous body is the glass of the visor, now sitting in the lower half of a bronze helm.
"My hat, please." he asks, once he's ready to stand.
"Of course." Clemett hands it over with a tip of his chin. "Everything feel good?"
"As good as they can, I would imagine. I am grateful for the service."
"My pleasure." he steps back, giving the harvester room to move, crossing his arms as he nods in approval. "Yeah, I think this'll look real nice at the shin-dig tomorrow."
"I'm inclined to agree." if Harv were able to smile, he thought now would be an opportune time to do so. "Again you have my thanks."
"And -again- I was happy to do it. Always a treat to work on a relic such as yourself."
The glowing pupils behind the visor flux. "...Are you saying I'm old?"
He laughs. "Only a little. Now I didn't forget that you wanted to catch the good captain when his ship comes in, and I think I heard the harbor bells not too long ago."
"Oh? Is there nothing I can do to help here?"
"Nah, me and the boys got it under control. I'll catch up with you later."
"Very well. Later then."
It's nearly evening now as the Sea Hawk eases to the dock, crew members casting out their tethers and dropping the anchor. The gangplank soon drops and passengers, from the council members of Karillon to the Magi and their escorts, begin disembarking. Harv arrives just in time to see the last of them starting along to pier towards the palace, feeling a quiet sort of relief at not having been too late. He waits, watching, feeling a strange warmth in his chest as someone at the back of the throng of people waves at him. He recognizes Windleaf after a moment and returns the gesture. Harv waits for all the others to pass by, received by castle staff to be lodged for the night, before moving from his spot to offer as warm a greeting as he's able to his friends.
Windleaf hugs him after a brief, surprised comment about his new body. Though he has no sensation for touch as humans do, Harv appreciates the affection. Always has.
"It's good to see you well, Windleaf. I apologize for not making a greater effort to see you sooner."
"Think nothing of it." she shakes her head, still smiling. "I know how popular you are around here."
"Well..."
"It's just a joke." she laughs, sensing she embarrassed him a little. "Are any of the others here yet?"
"Just the Gadgeteers, but the other ship is due any hour now." Harv adjusts his hat. "Until then, I would be happy to escort you to your lodgings for the night."
"That's not necessary, Wind and I are staying on the ship for the night." Stinger put his hand on Harv's shoulder, a dull chime ringing through his new frame. "But we wouldn't mind keeping you company for a spell, would we?" his dark eyes slide to the woman beside him.
"Not at all. There's so much catching up to do."
The moon is rising and the sky over Metaboline is brimming with stars when another ship comes into the harbor. A contingent of the Metaboline guard wait on the dock with several lanterns to escort the visiting Wyldernian dignitaries once they disembark. They rank and file together by kind, beginning with the Toparri of which there are only three including Jakir. Five Banori follow after, two before and after their newly ascended king Drem, Dashau's middle son. He has the same silvery complexion as his father, but his features are decidedly softer due to his youth. Four Devorians come after, the hooves of Ura, her mother, and her husband shaking the gangplank. The fourth is a weeks old calf strapped to Ura's chest. Lastly, the Empress is escorted by her fellow Org-Ta warriors, her court mage included with a woven tabard belted around her waist.
Though it is so late in the evening now, dinner is waiting, freshly prepared to satisfy all of the guests. An incredible, carved wooden table fills the heart of the chamber with its diameter, bronze and purple dinning ware laid to accommodate each seat. There is no particular arrangement to the places, save for the three reserved chairs that are in line with the griffin motif's head meant for the royal family. Queen Estrella offers a few words of welcome and gratitude before all in attendance thought it appropriate to sit down. The servants then hurry to their work of pouring wine and filling plates.
In the beginning there is little to no conversation, but what can one expect in a room full of strangers. Those who are familiar speak in tucked chins and whispers to one another, warily looking across the table from time to time. The only ones that appear to be in any measure of good company are those mismatched few sitting across from the queen: Clemett on one end forming the seam between them and the Magi, and to his left respectively are Xero, Mezzick, Jirina, Ria unconsciously acting as a buffer between the Empress and the other humans, and Harv standing in the space between Stinger and Windleaf's seats. It was the first time they had been together in the same space in more than five years...in its own way it is satisfying. There's a quiet, communal happiness between them. Even Jirina appears strangely comfortable, mind you she never looks at the former Archmage whenever she speaks or addresses her directly by any means. It's for the better, to be sure.
Their ease of conversation seems to spread, giving the other visitors the courage to reach out. What was a rigid, static encounter slowly became something more like a social gathering. It will be hours after midnight before word of retiring for the night starts circulating. Each party will excuse themselves in turn, one by one, until the dinning hall is quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
"Ready to head back to the Hawk?" Stinger puts an easy arm around Windleaf's waist, a suggestive lilt in his voice.
Her steps pause briefly, then she exhales. "Go ahead. I'll catch up."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, I'll be fine."
He lingers a moment, seeming unsure with a light knit to his features. But then he nods, relenting. "I'll wait up for you."
She smiles, their fingers lingering together until he pulls too far away. She watches him leave, feeling a knot settle in the pit of her stomach. Windleaf recollects her courage with a quick breath as she turns on her heel, calling gently after Harv.
Stinger takes the not too long walk back to his ship with no real hurry. He feels a little unsteady on his feet, having drank too much. He can't see the redness in his face but he feels it. He mentally blames Clemett though they had sat half a table away from each other, the Gadgeteer just made him want to drink somehow. More so, made him want to out drink him. Call it a weakness.
Most of the crew is asleep now, the night watchman quietly greeting Stinger as he comes aboard. Sleep actually sounds like a wonderful idea, he thinks as he comes closer to his cabin door. Maybe not right away, though. Not until the vacant side of his bed was warm again and his and Windleaf's clothes were strewn carelessly about the floor. He grins to himself, hooking a corner of his lip between his teeth at the sudden urge to kiss that incredible Fanoman woman he loved so dearly.
He bothers to light a lamp in the cabin, giving him enough of an amber glow to see by. He shrugs out of his coat, pulling his shirt over his head as he rounds his desk. He kneels down, pushing the creases out of the pile of a dozen blankets arranged there. Windleaf refused to try and squeeze into his hammock with him, and he wasn't about to sleep with her in the same room and not in the same bed, so they compromised to this makeshift bed on the floor. He makes it up as best he can, putting their pillows in their proper places and mostly lining up the top blanket the way she likes it. She can be so particular. With the bed mostly right he sees fit to kick off his boots, tossing them into a corner. Now he waits, ankles crossed and fingers laced together in his lap.
Stinger knows something is wrong the second she comes through the cabin door. He senses a shift in the energy around him, something he was convinced he wasn't sensitive to, not like this. Even the way Windleaf locks the door doesn't sound right. It's slow, methodical, step by step as the bolt settles into place. And when she greets him, apologizing for the wait, she smiles without meeting his gaze. That was something she rarely ever did, so rare that he could only imagine what could have been going through her mind. He can't help but watch her as she moves about the cabin, slowly stripping, seeming to intentionally do so with only half of her typical focus. She's a million miles away, her mind is anyway.
Her putting out the lamp and crawling into bed does nothing to ease the discomfort he can feel in his skin at her close proximity. Something just isn't right.
"Everything okay?" he asks, toned hushed in the darkness. He's still sitting up, though now he faces her, unknowing that she's turned away from him.
"Fine. Just," her breath hangs in her chest a moment, "I'm sorry...I just...I don't feel up to..."
"No, it's okay," he interrupts, feeling as if she was hoping he would, "I think I had too much to drink anyway."
"The wine was good though, I can hardly blame you." the laugh she releases at the end sounds forced. Fake.
Stinger is quiet, thinking. Trying to put a name to this awful feeling coursing through him.
Windleaf shifts beneath the blanket, body curling inward, fingers steadily hooking tighter into her pillow. She needed to say something. He had a right to know, to hear what the echoes in her head were saying. She shudders at the sounds behind her, the little brushes of skin and cloth as Stinger stretches behind her. She can feel his breath on her bare back.
"What's going on, Wind?" he finally asks, swallowing hard just as the words leave his mouth. "What happened...you get into it with someone? Was it Jirina?" Oh Keerg, please, anyone but her...
"N-no, it was nothing like that." though she shudders a little, quietly grateful the she-Org hadn't been involved.
"Then what?"
For a moment she can't speak, eyes searching beneath screwed tight lids. She thinks back, looking for the right place to start her explanation.
Windleaf had stayed behind for a short while in hopes of speaking to Queen Estrella. If anyone had an answer to the question that had been burning the back of her mind for weeks now, it would be her. Magekin had a penchant for that, having information no one else could gain access to. Her thoughts linger on her nerves at the time, how she hid one hand behind the other nervously when the queen had addressed the ring on her finger -something Windleaf had never worn before.
"I'm hardly surprised...the admiral speaks very highly of you." Neither surprised nor obviously pleased. But what could Windleaf expect? Why should anyone be happy for her?
She winces at the heavy, heated weight of his hand curling over her shoulder. Her words emerge unsteadily, in parts and pieces as her courage waxes and wanes. It comes together eventually.
"So what did you ask her?"
"It's stupid."
"Don't give me that." he scoffs. "What's this about?"
Finally, she swallows. "I thought I was pregnant."
His heart hitches in his chest, albeit briefly. He supposed that was something to get worked up about, especially since they had been going at it like a couple of porterkatts in Autumn. Not that the idea upset him, it's just a lot to take in so suddenly.
"Y-you...thought?"
"Yeah. But I'm not." she exhales slowly, trying to keep her composure. "And Estrella said I never would be."
"Wait, what? Why not?"
Now that she has had time to process it all, it makes sense. Windleaf can't remember the last time she experienced the full range of her cycle. Not since before the Darg touched her. And that's how Estrella explained the matter; the Darg abhors everything about life and the living, particularly their ability to propagate.
"I'm sorry." she forces out. The tears are coming. "I'm so sorry."
Keerg's sake, what is he supposed to say? His mind buzzes with questions and expletives that he won't let emerge from his open mouth, knowing it would just make things worse. The first restrained sob of hers that cuts the quiet makes his entire body tense, his first reaction is to close the space between them as quickly as he's able. He has to be close, he knows she needs to feel that he's there, that she isn't alone. Stinger feels her body shaking in his grasp, tiny shudders in her chest that work through him as well. Stinger tucks against her, forehead to her shoulder and his arms curling tighter, holding her to him like a second skin.
"I deserve it." she forces out, voice muffled by her hand attempting to cover her mouth, "I know I deserve it but,"
"It still hurts." he interrupts. "It hurts a helluva lot and it's going to for a long time. It might never get better. I'd give anything -and I mean anything- to take that pain away, Wind. You know I would...but I can't. And what I can do isn't all that much."
Windleaf takes a deep breath, trying to get her composure back. She twists in his grip, testing at first until his arms loosen, then she shifts around to face him. Her fingers find the bristle of his beard in the dark, her hand eventually framing his face.
"All I can do is love you as hard as I'm able...try and make you happy. Though...I'll admit...I'm scared that might not be enough."
Revealing his vulnerability helps her focus, another deep breath moving through her. It was a knee-jerk reaction, having always had a natural instinct to act as the stable foundation. It stems from an almost compulsory desire to have control over something whenever possible, even if it's just herself.
"I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing."
"But I know how much...how you wanted a family." They had both wanted a family some day. They had even talked about it in the quiet of their nights together, in bed or walking together on deck beneath the moon and stars with the sea all around them. They shared visions of them -having decided two would be plenty- agreeing they would both be dark skinned and raven haired like her, and as big a pair of trouble makers as he is. But that was gone now. That was never going to happen.
"I still do...we still might...just not the way we planned. Strange how life works sometimes. I mean...if that's something you could consider."
She doesn't respond quickly. The silence between them stretches far enough to worry him.
"I need some time." she exhales. She needed to give all of this a chance to sink in, to process. In time she tucks close to him, his chin resting atop her head as she pushes her forehead to his collar bone. She finds some comfort in his calloused fingers stroking the furrow of her spine. Windleaf tries to stay focused on his voice as he whispers, reassuring her, instead of on the wrenching pain in the middle of her chest trying to swamp her. It succeeds for a short while, forcing her to hide her face against his chest as she starts crying again. Stinger holds on until it passes. Neither will sleep soundly tonight.
()
"What color is this?"
Jirina turns away from the open archway to the balcony, arms still crossed over her chest as she focuses on Ria. The human holds a stretch of silk between her hands. "It's sable and gold."
"Ah. Thank you, majesty."
She nods, as if the court mage could see it. "Is there really a need to be so formal?"
"It's a wedding," Ria giggles, laying the garment down, hands moving over the bedside where she had several pieces of clothing laid out. "It's important."
"But all this finery for but a few hours of...whatever?" she just couldn't find the proper word. "Hardly seems practical."
"Who said weddings needed to be practical? A wedding, a celebration of one of the most impractical things in the world?"
Jirina almost counters, mouth opening slightly, but she pulls back. That's a fair enough explanation she supposed.
"Have you ever attended one, majesty?"
"Hm? No...not that I can recall." not in a capacity other than Empress, which had a tendency to separate one from the intimacy of such an event. Then again, the Wyldernian tradition of marriage wasn't quite the same as it was on Arkose.
"Did you never imagine it as a child? What it would be like?"
"No." a firm, final response.
Ria must have felt a shift in the energy in the room, her little smile and amusement falling flat. "Apologies, majesty..."
"None necessary."
Ria shifts on her feet a moment, then holds up another garment. "Is this the same color?"
"It's red."
"Oh...well...do you think it would match well?"
"I am indifferent. I only wish that you be dressed."
"You're no help." she shrugs. "No one needs to be able to tell I'm blind by the way I dress." Then she turns on her feet towards a sound she's just able to hear. "What do you think, Mezzick?"
It's the first time the young Org has moved since he settled into his usual place near the door. It's a habitual space for him to inhabit that branches from a sort of quiet paranoia mixed with a diligence to his duty to protect the empress. His chin tips upward, focusing on Ria through the dark glass of his visor.
"I like the black and gold." he says after a moment with a slow, contemplative nod. "It looks more...impressive."
A little laugh. "Impressive? My, that is a compliment. Do you agree, your majesty?"
For a moment she said nothing, certain she had already voiced her relatively nonexistent opinion. Then she catches Mezzick's expectant look, a particular lilt of his head in silent demand that she say something. She responds with an equally quiet hitch of her shoulders only to receive a quick retort with his hand. Several seconds of this before she finally clears her throat.
"I, uh...suppose he has a point." the rhythm of the words are awkward. "And if you're of the mind to care what others think...well...you know."
Ria smiles, appreciating the effort. "Thank you, majesty." Black and gold it is. She begins to wrap the fabric around her in her usual way, only pausing a moment. "Sir Von Moon isn't here, is he?"
"You can't tell?"
"Normally I could, but he's been so quiet as of late..." her features are a mixture of concern and confusion. "Any idea why that is?"
Somehow Jirina senses that the words are directed at her, and that Ria knows the answer to her question. It almost feels accusatory. "I'm sure he's all right. Just in one of his moods." Though she would admit under the right scrutiny that his "moods" had never consisted of the two of them refusing to speak to each other outside of an official capacity for nearly a month. Xero could barely stand to meet her gaze much less hold a conversation. "Perhaps I'll speak to him about it."
"You should."
By Organ's grace how Jirina wished Ria could see her face. Was she being scolded by her own court mage?! Even Mezzick shifted on his feet, his head turned away. It looked like he was about laugh, making Jirina's expression stretch that much further into disbelief. Of course he straightens up the second he realizes she's looking at him.
After a moment she clears her throat again. "In good time. Now let's hurry, lest they start without us."
As extravagant as a Metabolinian wedding was meant to be perceived, many of the Wyldernians simply weren't impressed. No offense intended, they thought their own traditions much more interesting. Had they the opportunity, the Banori would have been bragging about their public mating rituals, or the Devorians in regards to their similar customs of nude wrestling. The Orgs of both kinds, along with their Dendrokin cousins, found the ceremony reminiscent of their own, though far more subdued. They were almost painfully aware of the heavy quiet throughout the room as Estrella recited some ages old monologue that had been used from the first royal wedding to today; Orgish weddings had never gone without singing. Gray Orgs especially feel a deep affinity for the vibrations of scores if not hundreds of conjoined voices raised in celebration of love and unity. By comparison this is almost...somber. The reception garners a similar reaction, though they try their best to show their happiness for the new couple after a few rounds of drinks.
Jirina finds large social events consistently tiring. Even if she enjoys them, their conclusions tended to leave her with a distinct urge to nap, or at the very least sequester herself to some peace and quiet. This was proving to be no different, especially since she is constantly bombarded with greetings and tidbit conversations from strangers and neighbors alike. The only interaction she could stomach giving her full attention to is that with the now abdicated Estrella, who discusses the possibilities of future trade agreements between their kingdoms in no certain terms. Jirina shows passing interest, not wishing to come off as rude, but neglects to mention that it wouldn't be up to her. Soon enough the council will have to bother themselves with such things. In any case, she would pass the information on.
"Majesty?"
Jirina's head snaps to the side in correlation with something she just feels at her wrist.
"Could I steal you away for a spell?"
"Was that a pun?" Jirina grimaces to hide a fledgling grin that tries to twist the corner of her mouth.
Ria laughs. "I certainly hope so. Am I interrupting?"
"Not at all." Estrella concedes. "...Is this your court mage that I've heard so much about?"
"Heard from who, exactly?" a brow raises beneath the she-Org's visor.
"Archmage Anari speaks very highly of her, as does her predecessor. You know Windleaf, don't you, empress?"
"I do."
"And if the state of your kingdom -from what I hear- is any indication, her time in your employ has served you quite well."
"Indeed, it has. Thank you. Now if you'll excuse us." with a nod of goodbye Jirina starts to step away, tucking her arm to be sure Ria follows.
"Don't know if I will ever grow accustomed to that."
"To what?"
"The praise." Ria blushes. "I'm almost unsure how deserving I actually am." An easy doubt for her to harbor, having grown up surrounded by people more worried over her handicap than praising her accomplishments.
"Deserving enough." Jirina nods. "You've done fine work for me, certainly more than anyone likely expected of you...for obvious reasons."
"Of course."
"So did you need something? Or did you sense my need to be rescued?"
"Ah, so that's what that was." a strange static she could just feel from across the ballroom. She laughs a little. "Well, not just that."
"Then what?"
"Have you seen the Premier?"
Jirina is quiet for a moment, thinking. "Not since the reception began. Should I have?"
"Not necessarily. Mezzick saw him leave the ballroom shortly after the ceremony ended."
"I see. And I need to know this...why?"
"You should talk to Xero, majesty." Ria tucks her chin a little. "If I may be so bold to say."
"Now you excuse yourself?" a little laugh, amusement genuine. This tiny human had more courage than she would ever realize. "But I hear you, Taj'hal, I hear you very well. Would you be able to find him?"
"I could feel him out, yes, majesty."
"Then would you be so kind as to escort me?"
"My pleasure."
Xero Von Moon would never admit to hiding from anyone or anything. He always writes it off as not wishing to be seen. The difference is in the eye of the beholder, of course. So to speak. In any case, Xero wasn't hiding, just not wishing to be seen as he occupied a lone corridor with his hands tucked behind him in the usual manner. He keeps his eyes fixed on something beyond the glass panes, perhaps on the darkening horizon. His snowy brows flinch when he hears footsteps disturb the once resounding quiet. He knows those steps as well as his own, their particular heaviness, and the little ones that fall twice as often to keep up. He swallows gently with a steady inhale through his nose, shifting to face whatever is coming as a man should.
"You'll have to excuse my absence, majesty." he begins. "I'm afraid I haven't much the mind for socializing."
"That's quite all right." Jirina nods, gently pushing Ria's hand from her wrist before taking a another step. "May we speak?"
"By your leave, majesty."
"As friends?" she adds. "At least...I would hope that we still could."
"Of course we can."
"Then...I would apologize."
His brow knits. "I will not accept it."
Jirina feels a charge of anxiety work through her. "No?"
"No. Because you don't need to offer it. If anyone is at fault, it's me." he pauses long enough to shrug. "I had thoroughly humiliated myself and you by assuming I knew what you needed. I thought I knew what was best and tried to force that on you. You had every right to be angry."
"But that doesn't excuse how I put my hands on you that day. You deserve better than that from me."
"Mayhaps, but the same could be said of me. As much as I would like to think you and I are alike...I forget how many worlds apart we actually are. What brings me solace...it simply cannot be the same for you."
"True enough."
Xero turns to face the window again, one hand pushing over the top of his head before returning to its place behind him. "In my old age...forgiveness sets me free. It gives me leave to stop fretting. But you...it doesn't have the same meaning for you. No two things we have experienced together share a definition between us, do they?"
"I would imagine not...for the most part."
"Yet I had the nerve to believe just that." his chin drops, eyes closing for a moment. "You have endured...unspeakable pain...in body and spirit throughout your life. I can only imagine how many times your heart has been broken."
Her breath hitches, a slight burning coming to her eyes.
"Some of that heartbreak...perhaps even the worst of it...came from someone you saw as your comrade. Your ally. Now that I know what she did to you," he shakes his head, violet eyes widening in a quiet mixture of amazement and disgust, "even I feel anger towards her."
Jirina feels her heart clench, one tear working free of the corner of her eye. She starts towards him again, taking three large steps to stand behind him. She pulls the visor from her face, blinking at the almost too bright light until her vision clears.
"You have trusted me with your life countless times...called me friend. I dare say we're almost family. Then I go an act like such a fool, as if none of that mattered. All I was concerned with at that moment was potentially stopping you from being so damn surly. Instead of recognizing your feelings, I tried to dictate to you what they should be." he turns his head, looking at her, initially startled by the sight of her uncovered face.
Jirina needed him to see that she wasn't angry with him, that it had never been the case. Naturally she had been angry, furious even, but not at him. She couldn't hold it against him that there are simply some things about her that he will never fully comprehend. And if she was going to forgive whatever it was that he felt guilty for, he needed to be able to do more than just assume how she felt.
"None of that has changed, old man. You're still my brother." she tries to smile, for his sake.
"Though I've made such a mess of it."
"Hardly what I would call a mess." she smirks at the way his mustache puckers. "Xero...I still trust you. In my weakest hour, you have been the only one I could stand to see me in such a state. And you cared for me, even when I would have rather died than keep fighting. That formed a bond that will not break...no matter how much of a fool you try to make out of yourself."
Xero's gaze is fixed on her features all the while, catching all the nuances and stray movements that he has never before had a chance to really appreciate. It brings a strange sense of humanity to her manner, an authenticity to her words that he had never noticed. It makes his heart wrench, that is the artificial and magical cell that inhabits his synthetic body.
"I'm trying to say that I forgive you, you old sod."
Finally he feels the anxiety shake from his shoulders, letting him feel light again. "So it would appear. You're far too gracious, majesty."
"So I've heard." A small laugh. "Almost can't wait to abdicate so I can get away from you and get back to being a bully."
"So you stopped?" one snowy brow arches.
Jirina puts her visor back in place before he can catch the lingering amusement in her eyes. "Perhaps I should have made you my court jester instead, Xero. It would have certainly been a more fitting position for your mouth."
"I guess we'll never know." a bemused sigh and a smirk twists his mouth. "Though I have it on good authority that my mouth is fitting no matter what position it happens to be in."
Jirina can't stop her jaw from dropping, and over her shoulder comes the unmistakeable sound of muffled laughter from Ria. After accepting the reality of the Mage Warrior having made such a lewd joke -likely the first of its kind- Jirina finds it in her to release a laugh that had perched itself in her stomach. Something genuine.
"Orgran's grace." she shakes her head, still partially unable to believe what he said or how he so confidently stood there with the most smug look on his face. "Well, if you're done sulking, old man, I would have you come back with us to the ballroom. Drink with me, I'm of the mind to embarrass you."
"If it pleases her majesty." and he laughs to himself for the length of the corridor.
In the months to follow there will be more talk of alliances between the kingdoms, but nothing will come to fruition before the Empress of Wyldern steps down from her throne. It will be a day of celebration and trepidation; the country is now subject to the council, more easily swayed by the will of the people, but is Wyldern ready? Are the people strong enough to live without the empress? Jirina certainly thought so. For her this was a great day indeed. With Xero, Mezzick, and Ria, she walks out of Tyr Og Nor to a wall of sound from countless citizens singing her praise. It's strangely comforting to know how much of a difference she was able to make.
She feels a great weight roll from her shoulders once she passes through Cyl Og Sul's gates.
"So where will you go now?" Mezzick asks. "What will you do?"
Jirina takes a breath and exhales "Home. And I suppose I'll do...as I please." it almost didn't feel right saying such a thing. "Perhaps I'll...start sleeping in."
"Hah!" the sound ejects from Xero with an incredulous upturn to his mouth. "And I'll take up embroidery."
"Then make me something pretty, old man." she laughs. "I'm partial to pink."
"You lie."
"What of me?" the younger Org looked to her, worry working his features beneath his visor.
"Look at you," Jirina gestures with her hand, "you're a man now. You're as free as I to do anything. Surely there is something you've always wanted to do other be my shadow."
His mouth opens, perhaps to protest, but now words form. He doubles back and merely nods.
"Although if you are in need of one last task from me, I would have you see these two to the surface."
"Very well."
"Trying to get rid of me that quickly?" Xero crosses his arms.
"Hardly. I've been stuck with you for years, I need a reprieve from your mothering." a little laugh as she steps towards him. Her big arms circle him and cinch tight. "Though I am grateful for it. I'll miss you."
"As will I, but I'll not be too much of a stranger. So try to keep yourself out of trouble until I come around again."
"I promise nothing." Still smiling she lets him go, taking a half step back. "And what about you, Miss Taj'hal?"
"Just Ria, please. I'm going to go back to the academy to finish my studies. From there...who knows. Maybe I'll travel."
"Sounds exciting. You have my best wishes."
The human girl shifts on her feet, seeming a little anxious. "Could...if I should come back...would I be welcome here?"
"As far as I'm concerned, you would. Pay's Hom -and my home- will always be open to you."
Ria smiles in a rare way, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Then she holds out her arms, expecting. Jirina indulges her one last time, bending down just enough to let her arms circle her neck in an embrace. "It's been an honor." she says quietly, hoping she sounds sincere enough.
"Thank you." Ria's voice is tight, uneven. "Thank you for believing in me."
Jirina feels her tuck against her neck, or at least it felt like her neck, and then she tensed at a sudden small contact to her cheek she didn't expect. Before she could even register what it was and say a word in its regard, Ria had released her hold only to latch onto Xero's arm. They said their goodbyes and Jirina watched them go, headed towards Big Mesa. Just a moment passes until Jirina comes back to her senses, turning to begin walking in the other direction, towards home. She shakes her head a little with an uncertain smirk, her hand at her cheek to cover the lingering warmth of the kiss the human had put there.
Author's Note: Well, there it is. Done. I'm working on a follow up, because I'm not done telling Jirina's story. But it needs its own thing, you know? Anyway, hope you enjoyed, and if so, please let me know.