Private Leavetaking | Invite

[Cerise Damarien]

TWO YEARS AGO
CONDORIAH
​

Cerise Damarien had never been gifted with the sight of her own accord. She had never had a foretelling or a premonition or even a compelling hunch. Her talents in the Force lay elsewhere. But that wasn't to say that her life had gone untouched by the gifts of sight. Every night for over a decade, she relived in her dreams the foretelling she had witnessed, so realistic and vivid that she would have sworn to hearing the dry, cracked whispers of the old woman hissing it into her ear, to feeling the cold grasp like steel at her wrist, waking abruptly from the pain.

She stood near the bed, a solitary affair in a small room populated mostly by books and clothes. The room opened up onto a small balcony, suited for holding some herbaceous plants and gathering fresh air. The balcony looked out over the city of Safeld. The Tower stood, imperious as ever, but from her angle -- looking northwest -- she could almost imagine the coastline of Doriah in the far distance, rocky and salty, the air with the tang of sea spray. It would have been nice to stop there, to say goodbye to her parents and her siblings, but there simply wasn't time. She had already wasted too much time, her hands idle on the leather satchel she was in the process of stuffing, gazing wistfully out over the city.

There would be time later. Or not. In any event, she had things to do. Too much time had already be misspent by the leaders of her order pushing aside the reports she had given of the vision she had witnessed. It would not do to dally now. She continued to gather her things -- clothes and shoes, a few keepsakes -- then went to the small desk built into the stone of the wall near the door. It was there that anyone approaching her room would find her, sorting through the few books there to determine which to take and which to leave behind.

Aeren Vale​

 

[Aeren Vale]

Cerise Damarien

Aeren Vale was not allowed to speak loudly from a very young age. He had screeched in joy at the sight of a pair of birds raising up in flight over the hill and said hill had spontaneously caught fire. An old tree that had been there longer than his parents and their parents burned down. That was the end of Aeren's relaxed and easy upbringing.

Discipline, order, silence had become his.

His teachers strict, unfeeling, keeping him quiet by force first until he was old enough to be able to modulate his voice by himself. They had discovered that as long as he maintained his emotional composure and chose his words carefully another incident could be avoided.

Over those years Aeren had grown insular, an introspective young man, who preferred to read over running out in the field. Lest said field caught fire again.

In a way Cerise's discovery of him had become a boon. While she was strict, she did not use the reed and allowed him freedom that had been lost to him from an early age. She believed in him for some reason. Aeren did not know why, but he was grateful for it regardless. This is why when the day come she came to him and told him they had to leave their home behind he did not hesitate.

He simply asked how many bags he'd be allowed to take with him.

His footsteps came first and then the certainty of his knock on the door. When she allowed him entry he came in and bowed deeply.

"Master." His voice quiet but confident. "I am ready."