One in the past and two present because I'm desperate to actually write and finish something hahaha. Sorry it's just my characters ;-;
The blighted lands had always been eerily silent. They'd long since decayed into dry dirt and clean carcasses, a few birds that had migrated scratching fruitlessly at the infertile ground. Even the horses seemed to grow uneasy, their ears flicking back as they nickered, trotting uneasily through the damaged areas. Breathing in the acidic air, Blake suppressed a slight cough and instead fixed his hair when it was mussed by a stale breeze.
He'd lost track of how much land he and the other Scouts traveled, mostly due to the monotony and the silence as the only conversations were brief ones to do with directions and their purpose for scouting in the lands beyond the Court. He didn't mind. Conversations had never been entertaining for him to navigate, and he usually did not have much to say on the topic of politics, drama, and the King. If anything, he was a little anxious to finish with their assignment so he could slip off to the mundane world. He wasn't sure what part of the mundane plane it spit him out in, but he'd found the company there to be more enticing, even if it wasn't always agreeable.
"Mal." An armoured woman rode up beside him, her dappled horse whinnying in protest of cutting through the areas the blight had affected the worst. "Should we stop for reconnoissance?"
"No. We already know nothing would live here for long." His eyes flickered over and he just tightened his hand in the reigns of his horse. It took that movement as a cue to pick up the pace, slipping into an easy canter. "We'll focus on our task at hand. The village is close, anyway."
"Very well."
They settled back into silence, the others trailing behind. Their knives had not seen blood for too long, and he could sense them getting restless. While he didn't blame them, he did not want to waste time chasing some petty lead that would end up just being some curious satyr, djinn, or nymph who just happened to be overly inquisitive.
Dusty land faded into budding shrubs and then into swampy wetlands, the horses trudging through black muck as they traversed the tall grasses. The air soon became humid, but they'd all suffered through worse. He would take the wetlands over any day in the tundras of the nearby mountains. Many scouting groups sent there did not come back unscathed and those who did return were unlikely to ever accept a mission into them again. Not that they had much of a choice, but many preferred admonishment to a likely disfiguration or death.
Soon, they came upon the area they were supposed to check on, seeing some inchoate attempts at agriculture and livelihood. A wooden fence surrounded a few horses that grazed passively, lifting their heads as Blake and the others rode closer. Some grain sprouted from the less swampy areas, the land tilled and tamed, at least as much as one could in the Faerie. Ramshackle huts surrounded a pit in the ground, ashes littered by an apparent place for a fire. There were a few people milling about, looking apprehensive about the presence of the Unseelie in their village. They were not part of the Court, but they still made home on Unseelie lands and therefore we subject to Unseelie rule - such was the law of the lawless land.
Many did not look like gentry faeries, with an array of features distinctive to the mixing of races. A mossy green faerie clutched a napsack in her arms, her eyes slitted and limbs slightly too long for her body. Another smaller nymphlike creature filled a trough for a horse, sharp teeth filling his thin, wide mouth. Blake supposed some faeries didn't care about image and bloodlines, and while he didn't spend much thought on them either, even he had standards. He didn't mind associating with such creatures, but the thought of being one of them was entirely undesirable.
"Stop here and investigate," one of the faeries ordered, dismounting into the sticky grass. Mechanically, Blake followed, landing in the soft dirt and starting closer towards the village. The horse whinnied but stayed in place. With any luck, their task would not take long.
His gaze swept the clearing, seeing the nervous yet curious faces of the village dwellers. They kept their distance. A few faeries in his group went off to poke around in the huts, taunting a few of the residents. While he did not have many good moods, he'd never particularly had been inclined to take his anger out on the villagers for entertainment. He reserved such feelings for his own Unseelie Court members, finding it was far more satisfying to best them in a fight than any helpless mixed-breed of the lands.
Walking to a side of a hut, he studied the plants growing there, a little surprised they'd gotten anything to grow in such a sickly land. The Unseelie Court was one of the nicer places, if any place in the Unseelie lands could be called that. Any civilization was overshadowed by the immensity of the Unseelie Tower where the King resided and while he'd been inside of its courtyard, he'd never been inside the actual stronghold. To be invited was either an honour or sign of certain death. The pathetic hovel of such villages were helpless attempts at a home, and he did not know what to do with them besides condescend. That was what he'd been taught, after all, and no one had contested.
"Come look at this, Mal."
"What?" Blake snapped as he flicked through herbs in a clay pot, hearing them beckon him. "I don't have to check everything everyone's doing. I'm not the one in charge."
"And what are you doing? Investigating plants?"
"It's very telling-..." His hand stilled over an herb, pink blossoms starting to bud at the base of the stringy plant. While he'd never seen it before, he knew enough about it. The Seelie Court was rumoured to have an abundance of such plants as they were known for their pleasant effects when used in small doses and poison effects when crushed and burned and then mixed with sap. Enough poisoned arrows left in luckless Unseelies had given him time to study and deduce such things. If it was in the village's possession, then no doubt were they consorting with Seelies. Such lowly creatures were often avid spies and sympathized with Seelie forces, who of course would prefer to get another to do their own dirty work. Straightening up and heading back towards the other Scouts, he drew a few throwing knives and held them gingerly.
"Evidence of conspiring with Seelies. Let's get this cleaned up efficiently," he relayed, his gaze shifting to a nymph that slipped indoors. The others would not even ask to see the evidence, keen on getting some action before they were ushered back to the Court.
One of the Unseelies looked a little satisfied at his findings, drawing an arrow from his quiver. "All of them?"
"Do you need to ask?" Blake remarked as if it was a ridiculous thought, starting ahead to take care of his responsibilities.
The lake waters had always been the calmest part of the school. Connor had been quick to learn that through the harsh sparring and endless case studies the Scholomance forced him into. If he'd been five or so years younger, he would have given up, perhaps, especially with his former less-than-studious nature, but he found he didn't actually mind the distraction. Still, he would often find himself on one of the carved out balconies at night, arms crossed on the railing as he stared down into the waters. Rocky edges met the glass surface of the lake. He couldn't quite tell how tall his position in the mountains was, but he imagined his judgement was skewed, the night sky swallowed in the reflection of the lake.
"Rumour has it some students have jumped," some girl said, pushing her way through the door and out onto the balcony. He'd seen her around at spars and courses, but never made any effort to talk with her. That seemed to be the ongoing theme of his life at the Scholomance.
"Really?" he asked, more out of instinct than interest, watching as she moved to the railing to look out as well.
"I don't blame them sometimes. It's not easy here being away from everyone out there," she continued, settling her hands against the railing and sighing. "Are you going to jump?"
"Er-...No. I just like the view," he replied as he shook his head. He didn't know who hadn't thought of jumping at some point in their life, but the Scholomance was hardly the cause of any self-destructive feelings he might have once had. Many students had spoken about needing to become a Centurion if only to appease their parents, and while he did not want to be regarded as an entire disappointment to his own, he did not think that would drive him to equate failure to deserved death. There were worse things than flunking school.
"Lost in your thoughts?" Her words brought him back, finding it unpleasant to be caught so pensive.
"A little."
"We all are, I think." She gave a reassuring smile and had a friendly sort of face - the type that led him to believe she probably had a lot of friends and was beloved by most. "I, for one, am excited to get out of here. To be a Centurion is what I've always wanted, but I admit I have a lot of people I miss. Family. Friends. Things like that."
That seemed like a common thing many said. That they'd always wanted to be a Centurion. He wasn't sure if he'd ever had such grand and ideal plans for himself, or even for him and his brother as a pair. Travelers and Shadowhunters, sure, but Clave positions and big labels had never appealed.
"From my country, we'd just say 'А можа так і трэба'. It means maybe that's the way it should be."
His eyes went from the lake over to her and then back to the lake again. "Belarusian?"
"Yes. You too?"
"No. But the languages are mutually intelligible enough."
"I see." Her eyes seemed to focus on the distance, a keen sense of determination in her expression. Slowly, her hands released the railing and she started to draw away. "Anyway, I should get back to my work. I just came out to check you weren't planning on swimming."
He gave a quick shake of his head, though his thoughts were caught on the sound of the waves and the depth of their waters. The world had always been loud and cacophonous and hostile, so the distant sound of water on the face of the cliff was oddly soothing. When had life stopped being so overwhelming?
"I'm...not planning on it," he said when he realized he'd been silent for too long a moment. "Figured I should probably get done with this whole Centurion thing and die from that instead."
"Isn't that all of us?" The girl gave a self-deprecating shrug and a slight smile, making her way back towards the door. "Well, don't be a stranger."
"Mmm."
"And good luck on that case study about the New Zealand fae colony. I heard about it."
"Yeah, it's tough."
"Anyway, see you tomorrow."
He heard the door shut faintly behind him.
"Mmhmm. Tomorrow."
Stephanie,
A really efficient totalitarian state would be one in which the all-powerful executive of political bosses and their army of managers control a population of slaves who do not have to be coerced, because they love their servitude.
Isn't that quote rather accurate? Maybe you will find likemindedness within it. You probably won't recognize it. I don't think you've read the book that it hails from.
That beginning has quickly become a trademark of the few letters between us. Hopefully you do not take this as an invitation to come out to France again. I say that in jest, mostly. You have better things to do with your life (like peruse your fairytale collection and flounce in the Towns, I guess) than to go out of your way to hand-deliver another letter to someone like me, I know. Maybe we are both better at expressing what we mean in writing. At least, this is when I have more patience. That's where our similarities end, I believe.
I feel that book you forced upon me was to teach me some lesson. Am I Darcy without his charm? And you're Elizabeth without her sharpness, I suppose. Knowing that this is your style of book, it remains obvious that they certainly fall in love at the end. It is funny how the things about life in books rarely actually reflect life. Alas, I admit I only got a handful of chapters in before I moved onto something more my genre. You must be pleased I even touched the book at all. You've always had that sort of "I told you so" attitude that my pride despises.
Anyway, I'm moving again. Parts of Europe. London first for a few weeks, actually. Planning dinner with your family and the like. It's hard to convey sarcasm in writing, so I hope you know I'm joking. Since I've never had much of a home, that makes everything easier because I'm not tied down to anywhere, anyone, or anything.
I'm just very fond of tying up loose ends, so I believe this is what this letter is for. People grow apart in ties, even if they aren't fond ones, and I know it won't be long before we can't quite remember each other's faces (my prose sometimes goes into wistful, flowery language - I'll be glad if you ignore such tendencies). I'm not that angry, reckless, theatrical, and self-destructive 18 year old boy you once knew. There are places I want to go and things I've yet to see/find out. Maybe it's mostly because my life isn't about killing things anymore and sending everything and myself to some Void or Hell. Mostly, I think I've lost my machiavellian edge.
Ave atque vale - and I believe I mean it this time,
Marchosias
p.s. On the note of that sword, please ensure that before your death, its kill count exceeds 30 or so (Downworlders, deities, brothers, me - take your pick). Anything less would be embarrassing.
