November 19, 2017

Toldo: Certainty

This is chapter eight in Saoirse's Chronicles, not a part of the linear Reaper storyline. Find the chapter table of contents here.

It was just a normal night.

Well, a normal night is relative to the state of affairs, and given Saoirse’s chance to get her wings was fast approaching that obviously changed things, but it was supposed to be a normal night.
She itched to be in the woods and away from the oppressing walls of her home.

Her Gondir was out in those woods. He was like fresh air after being underwater her whole life. She was growing unable to fathom not seeing him each day. She had met him mere days ago - weeks; a blip on the map of her long existence to come in this world, yet it was so much more to her. He meant so much more to her.

She knew, logically, that seeing him was the farthest thing from wise. She would endanger his life. What could she possibly expect to gain out of this continued affair? Was it even an affair? She didn’t even know why he came back each day.
She wanted to believe it was for her.

No, she had convinced herself of it.
She tucked herself into bed and tried to ignore the uncertainty of it all.
What if he wasn't interested in her? Why would it matter if he was? It's not like they could be together, could they?

Absolutely not. She was Nymphen. Her father was royalty. She would be placed into a caste where she could then visit a matchmaker to find someone compatible for her.
It was something she had looked forward to all of her life - all of her life until now
Now? Now all she saw were Sheogorath's red eyes in her mind.
She tried to push it out of her head.

There was no certainty that they belonged together, and that was that.

Saoirse's vision was blurry as she moved slowly in the familiar place.

She knew this place. She had never been here, but she knew it.
She dreamed it.
She was dreaming again now.

It was the same dream each time she had it, and the dream brought her such a feeling of warmth and hope. She had no doubt this was the same dream coming to visit her once again. It was strangely lucid being in it - different from all the times before, yet in a way it was the same. She had gotten the dream since even before meeting Dannen Gwaithios

Saoirse had decided when she was younger that she wanted five children.
She changed her mind several times over the course of the years on that number. There was a point she was considering even more than five, but as she grew older, she grew wiser.
That’s what she told herself at least, but in reality it was likely just her growing more jaded. The number shifted consistently, but there was one thing that stayed the same - and that was this dream.
The dream varied, but the contents were usually the same. She was older - it was just something she could sense.

She had her wings.
She was married, happily.
And every, single time she dreamed this, she had three perfect children. No more. No less.
They were always perfect. Saoirse knew this - any children of hers would be perfect. She would love them no matter what happened. She would never be her parents. Her children would know love and life and happiness and praise, no matter what those stupid blank cards said.

Her oldest child was always a boy - a boy in all the dreams she had; clutching to her waist.

Then there was a little girl with her vibrant blue hair. Saoirse only ever saw her back, and only ever briefly.

Finally the youngest was just a small child in her arms, sleeping against her chest. She could never determine the gender of the youngest because they were always in her arms - right where they belonged. Even if she ever looked upon the youngest child in her arms - which she was certain she had in her dreams many times - she could never remember what they looked like.
Her oldest boy was similar - she could remember keenly looking at him in her dreams, but remembering absolutely nothing about what he looked like upon waking.

Her daughter was the only different one. She could remember the color of the girl’s hair, as it was her own.
She knew these were her children just as she knew they were perfect.
Each time it was always the same three children - the same genders and ages. An infant in her arms, a rambunctious girl that looked like she had barely grasped her footing, and a young boy clutching to her side.

The dreams had gotten more vivid as she got older. She could vaguely hear the sounds of their voices and see more of the scene.
Every time the dream started the same.
She was singing to her youngest - pressing them carefully to her chest as they dozed. She would try to brush the hair from their face when something would grab her waist suddenly - her oldest who never made a sound as he entered the room.

It was almost as if he were appearing out of thin air, but she never questioned the logic of dreams. Perhaps they weren’t even in a room at all? She never never remembered the location - ever. It was only the children that mattered to her.
She held her youngest securely and would reach to stroke her oldest child’s hair. It happened this way each time. She would turn around slowly and quietly call for her youngest girl whose back was to her each time with her blue hair seeming bright against the dim of the dream. “Mîthin?--” Some of the phrase was missing, but she didn't know what.

There were footsteps, and her little boy would jolt away from her suddenly.
She would say something to the boy that she could never make out or remember, and just as he would turn to look at her, she would wake up.
That was usually as far as her dream ever went, and she lived for it each time she had it.
This time seemed no different, but everything seemed clearer. Even a little more vivid. She could make out the scenery even - a crib, a nursery.

She could hear the exact tune she was humming to the youngest in her arms. She looked down at her youngest and saw the black hair shading their face. Her heart thudded in her chest at this realization. She was awed by the baby, and she reached to brush the hair from their face, just as she would each time.

It was a popping sound, almost like static - but familiar. A boy tugged on her waist. “Nuarin, emmë.” The accent on it was strange, but she couldn't put her finger on it.
It was the first time she had ever heard him speak so clearly and it made her beam. “Nuarin!” She whispered back to him happily as she stroked his hair. She looked down at him to see that his hair was black as well, but his face was covered as he leaned against her.

There was a slight crashing sound and Saoirse turned slowly as to not wake the baby in her arms. Her voice spoke before she registered what she was seeing. “Mîthin? Please be careful.”
Saoirse was confused now. Would she teach her children the Fir tongue? Of course she would, but would she use it so frequently with them at such a young age? The girl was so young, could she even recognize it? Maybe? She had never considered it.

There was almost a sense of dread in her - the dream would be over soon.
She could hear the footsteps coming down the hallway clearly, yet her gaze was still on the back of the bright, blue-haired girl. Was her skin darker?
The boy jolted away from her, running for the door. "Ada!"

Her voice echoed behind him as she turned to follow his movements slowly. "Show your father what you've learned, sweetheart. He'll be thrilled to see it."
This was it. This would be the end of it.

But it wasn't. Saoirse's heart stopped in her chest.

His eyes. His smile. She didn't even hear the door open - she didn't need to.
"S-Show me what?"


Perhaps it wasn't the wisest decision ever, but Saoirse had never been more certain in her entire life.

| Ento |
(Next Chapter Coming Soon)

-Nym Guide-
Mîthin?--” - "My Girl"/"My little girl"
“Nuarin, emmë.” - "Good morning, mommy."
“Nuarin!” - "Good morning!"
"Ada!" - "Daddy!" 

1 comment:

  1. I really wondered you know, who Saoirse would end up with XP
    Ahhhh it's nice to see these beauties again!
    And god I wanted to see all of the children clearer, I need to see these beautiful babies XD
    Oh Saoirse I am 100% sure you will be the most wonderful of mothers and you will raise them AS CHILDREN SHOULD BE RAISED.