10th of Winter
By the seventh day after first meeting Ennoia, Ciraaci was pretty confident that she could convince herself that the visit was a one-off interaction declared necessary by the cruelest of gods that be. In the time between then and now she'd kept to a corner and faced the door, hardly allowing herself to sink into the blessed numbing of a meditative trance. Every noise outside of her door had set her nerves on fire. She'd been ready to fight and scream if he came back with declarations of trustworthiness and safety. She'd nearly attacked a guard simply bringing her soggy rations of bread and overcooked rice and had faced a two-day punishment of starvation for the merest implication of impending assault.
How had she convinced herself that the meeting was a one time thing and the man's company wouldn't be forced on her further? The answer was pure and simple: denial. Ciraaci could do a lot with denial. For a very long time she'd managed to live her life under her faithfully capricious goddess with absolute conviction that neither of them loved one another and would have nothing to do with each other anymore. That was a lie, of course; Ciraaci hadn't realized how much she'd loved the sun until it was taken from her, but the fact remained that denial was still one of her strongest tools.
Denial didn't stop her from opening her eyes on the seventh day after his last visit and seeing Ennoia already in his chair in front of the door. It didn't stop the undignified hiss of a Myrian curse word, didn't stop her from sitting up from her pile of sodden hay, and did absolutely nothing to stop her from throwing herself into the nearest corner.
"You're safe with me," Ennoia said once she'd found her safe place and had managed to calm the panicked heaving of her chest. "I promise that you will not be assaulted while we are working together, Ciraaci. You may trust me at my word."
His eyes gleamed in the dim light of a candle placed at his left foot, a sharp green that seemed unwholesome like a rotten limb in the dark of the cell. She didn't trust him. She didn't feel safe with him. Their privacy was a violation of her right to choose who she wanted to socialize with and he would have been the furthest from the first person she'd rather talk to. That Ethaefal girl, from seasons past? She'd be leagues on top of this man on the list of acceptable people, and Ciraaci had not been very fond of her at all.
The silence hung between them like it did the first day they'd spoken, a silence pregnant with meaning and anticipation. Ciraaci was uncomfortable under the scrutiny being given her and she began fidgeting, pulling at loose knots in her hair and trying to look at anything that wasn't Ennoia. He allowed it for a moment and she wished, desperately wished, she could somehow hear his thoughts and know why he was here and what he wanted.
Finally, when Ciraaci could no longer handle the silence, she broke it first.
"What do you want?" She asked the wall, though the question was clearly intended for Ennoia. The ethaefal could almost feel the smug pride radiating off of him that he'd managed to get her to break silence first and her jaw clenched with the immediate desire to suck the words back in and leave them stewing in the silence all over again.
"To talk, mostly," Ennoia responded after another moment. He shifted and the candlelight moved to better illuminate her spot against the wall. Of course she flinched and looked at him, just to make sure he wasn't about to breach her space like he had on the first day, and he gave her what should have passed for a guilty smile but what had come out as a sneer. "I just want to see you better, understand?"
She blinked and looked away again which was all the permission he needed to scoot a little closer and lower the candle back down by his foot. It was still out of her reach, she noted, but if he got just a little closer she might be able to take it and use it. Somehow.
Silence again.
Ciraaci almost wanted to scream.
"Do you know where you are, Ciraaci? Or even why you're here? Who we are?"
She really didn't have an answer to the first and last question, but as she prepared to answer the second, her lip curled in a subconscious act of spite.
"You want to breed animals out of me," she spat. "Kelvic pups."
Ennoia nodded. "That's part of it, I suppose. What we really wanted were you things."
A reminder that Pavi was clearly not his first language despite his otherwise fairly passable diction.
"What things?" Ciraaci spat.
She was given the most rich, indulgent smile from the human man. It raised the fine hairs on the back of her neck, would have had her hackles up and her teeth bared in a snarl. Instead she merely recoiled from the sight.
"All of you," he answered, making a gesture at her sun-spun god-given form. "We wanted all of it."
881
How had she convinced herself that the meeting was a one time thing and the man's company wouldn't be forced on her further? The answer was pure and simple: denial. Ciraaci could do a lot with denial. For a very long time she'd managed to live her life under her faithfully capricious goddess with absolute conviction that neither of them loved one another and would have nothing to do with each other anymore. That was a lie, of course; Ciraaci hadn't realized how much she'd loved the sun until it was taken from her, but the fact remained that denial was still one of her strongest tools.
Denial didn't stop her from opening her eyes on the seventh day after his last visit and seeing Ennoia already in his chair in front of the door. It didn't stop the undignified hiss of a Myrian curse word, didn't stop her from sitting up from her pile of sodden hay, and did absolutely nothing to stop her from throwing herself into the nearest corner.
"You're safe with me," Ennoia said once she'd found her safe place and had managed to calm the panicked heaving of her chest. "I promise that you will not be assaulted while we are working together, Ciraaci. You may trust me at my word."
His eyes gleamed in the dim light of a candle placed at his left foot, a sharp green that seemed unwholesome like a rotten limb in the dark of the cell. She didn't trust him. She didn't feel safe with him. Their privacy was a violation of her right to choose who she wanted to socialize with and he would have been the furthest from the first person she'd rather talk to. That Ethaefal girl, from seasons past? She'd be leagues on top of this man on the list of acceptable people, and Ciraaci had not been very fond of her at all.
The silence hung between them like it did the first day they'd spoken, a silence pregnant with meaning and anticipation. Ciraaci was uncomfortable under the scrutiny being given her and she began fidgeting, pulling at loose knots in her hair and trying to look at anything that wasn't Ennoia. He allowed it for a moment and she wished, desperately wished, she could somehow hear his thoughts and know why he was here and what he wanted.
Finally, when Ciraaci could no longer handle the silence, she broke it first.
"What do you want?" She asked the wall, though the question was clearly intended for Ennoia. The ethaefal could almost feel the smug pride radiating off of him that he'd managed to get her to break silence first and her jaw clenched with the immediate desire to suck the words back in and leave them stewing in the silence all over again.
"To talk, mostly," Ennoia responded after another moment. He shifted and the candlelight moved to better illuminate her spot against the wall. Of course she flinched and looked at him, just to make sure he wasn't about to breach her space like he had on the first day, and he gave her what should have passed for a guilty smile but what had come out as a sneer. "I just want to see you better, understand?"
She blinked and looked away again which was all the permission he needed to scoot a little closer and lower the candle back down by his foot. It was still out of her reach, she noted, but if he got just a little closer she might be able to take it and use it. Somehow.
Silence again.
Ciraaci almost wanted to scream.
"Do you know where you are, Ciraaci? Or even why you're here? Who we are?"
She really didn't have an answer to the first and last question, but as she prepared to answer the second, her lip curled in a subconscious act of spite.
"You want to breed animals out of me," she spat. "Kelvic pups."
Ennoia nodded. "That's part of it, I suppose. What we really wanted were you things."
A reminder that Pavi was clearly not his first language despite his otherwise fairly passable diction.
"What things?" Ciraaci spat.
She was given the most rich, indulgent smile from the human man. It raised the fine hairs on the back of her neck, would have had her hackles up and her teeth bared in a snarl. Instead she merely recoiled from the sight.
"All of you," he answered, making a gesture at her sun-spun god-given form. "We wanted all of it."
881
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