Summer 5-6, 513 AV
The Dark of Night
Stonewhistling Pavilion, Endrykas
----------------------------------------
Riding, Riding, Riding, Riding, and the sun gone, gone, gone forever, drowned in a sea, not of grass, but of red, red blood, black now, because the light was gone, gone, gone forever, the sun gone, gone, gone forever, swimming, swimming forever, drowned and bloated with the sea-plump flesh of the drowned sun, forever, and Ara riding, riding, riding, riding, riding, And the horse beneath her, Canterfoot had turned to black, to black as ink, black as the blood-dark sea, black as the spoiled, sea-plump flesh of the drowned sun, gone, gone, gone forever, cold--
Cold.
Cold.
Ara woke with a sudden gulping for air, throwing herself up to sitting, a gasp so strong, her throat burned with the volume of air, and she started coughing, violently, her eyes watering with the force of it, her lungs, her tear ducts, almost the contents of her stomach, trying to pour every irregularity of her body out, every foreign invasion of breath, of water of food. She gasped violently, panicking for breath, and grasped for Livvy. Why was she not awake? But then…
She was not there.
Ara gripped the edge of the bed, hard, her knuckles shaking, her body still bucking wildly. She crawled to the side of the bed, and reached desperately for something - a leather sack, Livvy's tool sack. She dumped it, her hands weak, her eyes wild, her chest burning wildly, then pulled it to her, vomited into it. The violence of the gesture shook her body, and the coughing subsided, she breathed shallow, drawing breaths in search of her equilibrium, staring exhaustedly into the scent of her own stomach.
But Livvy. Livvy was not there. Where was Livvy?
Ara fought weakly to her feet, hauling the leather sack, her acids creeping through the worn seams of the skin to drip on the floor. She stumbled along weakly to the flap of the pavilion behind her, and threw the bag out into the grass, and stood, recatching her breath.
She needed Livvy, where was she? Livvy was always there. Always there.
And then she saw her - there was no great striking distinctions of her friend's silhouette, but her own eyes were so familiar with each nook and curve of her friend, she stood out recognizably to her. She was walking very slowly across the field, out of the trampled, cut grass of the field. And very, very faintly, Ara heard the echo of her voice - no words, just a low, hollow moaning.
Ara, in her night-gown, heavy-skinned with summer sweat, bare footed, did not stop to think. She set off down the hill.
Livvy walked slowly, thankfully. Ara made up ground quickly enough that as Ara got into the summer-grass, as tall as both of their shoulders, and as queer and shadowy as the ancient caves of the earth mother. The moaning, low and musical echoed through it, directionless and thick, as Ara grew closer. The birds flew wildly outwards from the clumsy staggering trail of the slave girl, a delta of rolling bird-wing following her wake. And then, Livvy, almost in tune with the howling summer wind, the screams of angry night-birds, the aggressive scrapings of the locusts, began to sing, and her voice was different, different than Ara had ever heard it, keening and queer and angry.
"Baby, baby go on, your lullaby done,
Baby, baby go on.
Pull your lace 'cross your breastbone,
Put a garter on your thigh,
Tie your hair with silver ribbon,
So none gone see you cry."
And she moaned again. Stopped now. Ara could see her from behind, the wild birds of summer whirling dervish-like above her, calling at her in protection of their own grassland-secrets. The girl rocked slightly, back and forth. Ara grew still, and quiet, and felt the queer sense of the holy she felt in the great crater of the Star-Daughter, or at a deathbed. She crept forward, quietly, then, very, very soft, as the moan rose again into words.
"Baby, baby go on, your lullaby done,
Baby, baby go on.
Take that long road down to altar,
With a ribbon tie roun' your wrist.
Promise to give your safety up
And seal it with a kiss."
The last two lines crescendoed with a violence and fury so powerful, Ara cringed lower to the ground. The wind came, hissing low counterpoints to the high-pitched keening Livvy's voice now broke itself across, almost an animal howl of fury and pain.
"Baby, baby go on, your lullaby done,
Baby, baby go on.
Tonight I bid my last farewell,
Though I see you 'gain in the morn.
For tonight the girl I love gone die."
And the voice tore as she sang the words, broke into a dissonant, howling screech, bleeding tears into the sound of her mourning. And on the word die, Livvy's voice pulled in with a sudden powerful violence, and brought the slave girl to her knees, gasping almost as hard as Ara had gasped in her bed a half bell before. Ara drew closer, and heard the girls voice rise in one more line, immensely soft, soft with a tenderness and sorrow so great, Ara's mind raced at it, its tiny, semi-audible intensity piercing her quick.
"For tonight, the girl I love gone die,
And a lady gone be born."
And the hollow keening melody of her howl poured softly through Livvy's voice once more, but soft, gentle, the sound of weeping surrender. She melted down lower as she spoke, until she lay on her side on the ground facing into the wall of green grass.
The keening ended. And Ara saw the girl's hand go to her side, and for the first time in the shadow light, she saw that on her hip, Livvy carried her hand axe. Ara's whole heart and body froze, and she felt her gorge rise again. Livvy pulled her undyed skirt up to her waist, revealing her wiry, work-worn calf, thigh, the curve of her spare-fleshed buttocks, of her jut-boned, sun-browned hip. And then she took the axe, and and slowly, slowly, drew the blade across her skin, across the tender secret flesh between her hip, and the venus of her hair.
Ara gasped, and low mewl came from her throat as she leapt forward to grab Livvy's wrist, the loudest sound she'd made since the fire. Livvy started violently, and turned, her face a wreck of sleeplessness, terror, and tear-swollen eyes, and scrabbled back with a shriek, dropping the axe. The flesh where she had just cut had two other lines on it, ugly with half healed crusted blood. Livvy pulled her skirt down quickly, her eyes wild with fear, then saw it was Ara, and the terror did not leave, it just changed.
"No… no Missy… no… I jus'… no, Missy Ara."
Ara crawled forward and wrapped her arms around Livvy. Her voice shook wildly, and anyone less familiar with its shape then Livvy, likely would never have understood it, "Livvy… Livvy, come home."
Livvy looked at her pale, and slack, and was silent a moment. Her lips smacked, dryly, and her eyes crawled up and down Ara's night-gown, avoiding her face. Finally she spoke quietly.
"Missy Ara, I ain't comin' back. I'm runnin' 'way."
Ara's eyes went wide, and she shook her head.
"I'm done, Missy Ara, I'm runnin' 'way. I'm doing it tonight. I ain't comin' back. Ain't no use my comin' back no more. I'm leaving, I'm doing it tonight. I don't give a god's petch what you gone tell me is out there, I found a glass beak, I'd petching run up and jump on it. I don't give a petch. I'm leaving." The diatribe grew louder, the fierceness that spoke so strongly of who Livvy was enervating her words, filling them with something fiercer and crueler than hate.
The force of it struck Ara with a shivering, electrical intensity and before she knew it, she'd reared her hand back and punched Livvy hard in the stomach.
Livvy took the punch with grace, and control, and cold, empty edge of hatred.
"Go ahead, Missy Aramenta. Order me around. Smack me around and beat me into submission like your god-damned petching father. Go ahead. You want me to pull up my blouse down so you can whip me? Go ahead. I live with you for fifteen years and I never done ask a petching thing, did I? I took care you, I dress you, I fed you, I take care of your horse, I clean your clothes, I done all it 'cause I loved you, Aramenta PEtching Stonewhistling. And I ask you one petching thing, After fifteen goddamned years I get the gumption to as' sumpin' of you, and the first goddamned thing you do is beat me. Go ahead then, Ama." she spit the secret, special nickname of their childhood with such venom it sounded like a curse, "Go ahead. Hit me. do it again. Make y'daddy proud."
Ara shook, angrily at the speech. And she looked at Livvy, she looked hard at her, her throat gasping. And Livvy looked back at her, defiant, bitter, hopeless, and so, so miserable. So miserable. And Ara looked at her, and she felt the fury pour out of her, vomited it up from her like she had with the contents of her stomach, leaving only the empty, aching, pulsing stomach behind. And she dropped her eyes, subserviently down. And very, very lowly, she leaned forward and kissed Livvy, just the lightest touch of her lips against the rough corner where the slave-girl's lips met her cheek. And Livvy shook under the touch, and her eyes closed. And Ara leaned forward, set her lips in their habitual intimacy, so close to the girls ear almost to touch the flesh.
"I'm sorry Livvy, friend. I'm sorry."
And Ara, exhausted and shaky fought her way to her feet, and turned, her head bowed, and walked, slowly, slowly, slowly back toward Endrykas.
---------
She lay in the bed sobbing for a quarter bell, and then, there was simply nothing left to sob. She'd cleaned out the last of emotion, and left herself hollow and empty-hearted again. She stared blankly at the wind-pulsed canvas wall.
It was another half-chime when she heard the canvas flap lift, and heard the familiar feet of Livvy cross the distance to her bed. She did not turn. She lay still as Livvy lay down wordlessly beside her, pulled her boots off her feet, and wrapped an arm around Ara, sniffling softly in her ear.
Niether of them moved or spoke for a moment. Finally Livvy whispered softly, "We gone make you the most beautiful bride the town ever seen. I promise."
Ara was silent, and still a moment, trying to feel anything but hopeless emptiness. The silence lasted for three full minutes, and Livvy simply lay still, requesting nothing of Ara. Finally Ara turned very softly in the bed, and leaned in to Livvy's ears. She murmured soft. "Will you do my braids?"
"I will if you let me."
She nodded, and was quiet a moment. Then said softly, "And when you do, will you tie them up with silver ribbon?"
Ara's eyes dropped, and she was silent for a beat. But she murmured very softly, "Yes'm."
Ara nodded softly, and lay on her back, her hands on her belly. Livvy did the same. And they both lay silent, unsleeping and solemn, until the sun rose on Ara's wedding day.x
The Dark of Night
Stonewhistling Pavilion, Endrykas
----------------------------------------
Riding, Riding, Riding, Riding, and the sun gone, gone, gone forever, drowned in a sea, not of grass, but of red, red blood, black now, because the light was gone, gone, gone forever, the sun gone, gone, gone forever, swimming, swimming forever, drowned and bloated with the sea-plump flesh of the drowned sun, forever, and Ara riding, riding, riding, riding, riding, And the horse beneath her, Canterfoot had turned to black, to black as ink, black as the blood-dark sea, black as the spoiled, sea-plump flesh of the drowned sun, gone, gone, gone forever, cold--
Cold.
Cold.
Ara woke with a sudden gulping for air, throwing herself up to sitting, a gasp so strong, her throat burned with the volume of air, and she started coughing, violently, her eyes watering with the force of it, her lungs, her tear ducts, almost the contents of her stomach, trying to pour every irregularity of her body out, every foreign invasion of breath, of water of food. She gasped violently, panicking for breath, and grasped for Livvy. Why was she not awake? But then…
She was not there.
Ara gripped the edge of the bed, hard, her knuckles shaking, her body still bucking wildly. She crawled to the side of the bed, and reached desperately for something - a leather sack, Livvy's tool sack. She dumped it, her hands weak, her eyes wild, her chest burning wildly, then pulled it to her, vomited into it. The violence of the gesture shook her body, and the coughing subsided, she breathed shallow, drawing breaths in search of her equilibrium, staring exhaustedly into the scent of her own stomach.
But Livvy. Livvy was not there. Where was Livvy?
Ara fought weakly to her feet, hauling the leather sack, her acids creeping through the worn seams of the skin to drip on the floor. She stumbled along weakly to the flap of the pavilion behind her, and threw the bag out into the grass, and stood, recatching her breath.
She needed Livvy, where was she? Livvy was always there. Always there.
And then she saw her - there was no great striking distinctions of her friend's silhouette, but her own eyes were so familiar with each nook and curve of her friend, she stood out recognizably to her. She was walking very slowly across the field, out of the trampled, cut grass of the field. And very, very faintly, Ara heard the echo of her voice - no words, just a low, hollow moaning.
Ara, in her night-gown, heavy-skinned with summer sweat, bare footed, did not stop to think. She set off down the hill.
Livvy walked slowly, thankfully. Ara made up ground quickly enough that as Ara got into the summer-grass, as tall as both of their shoulders, and as queer and shadowy as the ancient caves of the earth mother. The moaning, low and musical echoed through it, directionless and thick, as Ara grew closer. The birds flew wildly outwards from the clumsy staggering trail of the slave girl, a delta of rolling bird-wing following her wake. And then, Livvy, almost in tune with the howling summer wind, the screams of angry night-birds, the aggressive scrapings of the locusts, began to sing, and her voice was different, different than Ara had ever heard it, keening and queer and angry.
"Baby, baby go on, your lullaby done,
Baby, baby go on.
Pull your lace 'cross your breastbone,
Put a garter on your thigh,
Tie your hair with silver ribbon,
So none gone see you cry."
And she moaned again. Stopped now. Ara could see her from behind, the wild birds of summer whirling dervish-like above her, calling at her in protection of their own grassland-secrets. The girl rocked slightly, back and forth. Ara grew still, and quiet, and felt the queer sense of the holy she felt in the great crater of the Star-Daughter, or at a deathbed. She crept forward, quietly, then, very, very soft, as the moan rose again into words.
"Baby, baby go on, your lullaby done,
Baby, baby go on.
Take that long road down to altar,
With a ribbon tie roun' your wrist.
Promise to give your safety up
And seal it with a kiss."
The last two lines crescendoed with a violence and fury so powerful, Ara cringed lower to the ground. The wind came, hissing low counterpoints to the high-pitched keening Livvy's voice now broke itself across, almost an animal howl of fury and pain.
"Baby, baby go on, your lullaby done,
Baby, baby go on.
Tonight I bid my last farewell,
Though I see you 'gain in the morn.
For tonight the girl I love gone die."
And the voice tore as she sang the words, broke into a dissonant, howling screech, bleeding tears into the sound of her mourning. And on the word die, Livvy's voice pulled in with a sudden powerful violence, and brought the slave girl to her knees, gasping almost as hard as Ara had gasped in her bed a half bell before. Ara drew closer, and heard the girls voice rise in one more line, immensely soft, soft with a tenderness and sorrow so great, Ara's mind raced at it, its tiny, semi-audible intensity piercing her quick.
"For tonight, the girl I love gone die,
And a lady gone be born."
And the hollow keening melody of her howl poured softly through Livvy's voice once more, but soft, gentle, the sound of weeping surrender. She melted down lower as she spoke, until she lay on her side on the ground facing into the wall of green grass.
The keening ended. And Ara saw the girl's hand go to her side, and for the first time in the shadow light, she saw that on her hip, Livvy carried her hand axe. Ara's whole heart and body froze, and she felt her gorge rise again. Livvy pulled her undyed skirt up to her waist, revealing her wiry, work-worn calf, thigh, the curve of her spare-fleshed buttocks, of her jut-boned, sun-browned hip. And then she took the axe, and and slowly, slowly, drew the blade across her skin, across the tender secret flesh between her hip, and the venus of her hair.
Ara gasped, and low mewl came from her throat as she leapt forward to grab Livvy's wrist, the loudest sound she'd made since the fire. Livvy started violently, and turned, her face a wreck of sleeplessness, terror, and tear-swollen eyes, and scrabbled back with a shriek, dropping the axe. The flesh where she had just cut had two other lines on it, ugly with half healed crusted blood. Livvy pulled her skirt down quickly, her eyes wild with fear, then saw it was Ara, and the terror did not leave, it just changed.
"No… no Missy… no… I jus'… no, Missy Ara."
Ara crawled forward and wrapped her arms around Livvy. Her voice shook wildly, and anyone less familiar with its shape then Livvy, likely would never have understood it, "Livvy… Livvy, come home."
Livvy looked at her pale, and slack, and was silent a moment. Her lips smacked, dryly, and her eyes crawled up and down Ara's night-gown, avoiding her face. Finally she spoke quietly.
"Missy Ara, I ain't comin' back. I'm runnin' 'way."
Ara's eyes went wide, and she shook her head.
"I'm done, Missy Ara, I'm runnin' 'way. I'm doing it tonight. I ain't comin' back. Ain't no use my comin' back no more. I'm leaving, I'm doing it tonight. I don't give a god's petch what you gone tell me is out there, I found a glass beak, I'd petching run up and jump on it. I don't give a petch. I'm leaving." The diatribe grew louder, the fierceness that spoke so strongly of who Livvy was enervating her words, filling them with something fiercer and crueler than hate.
The force of it struck Ara with a shivering, electrical intensity and before she knew it, she'd reared her hand back and punched Livvy hard in the stomach.
Livvy took the punch with grace, and control, and cold, empty edge of hatred.
"Go ahead, Missy Aramenta. Order me around. Smack me around and beat me into submission like your god-damned petching father. Go ahead. You want me to pull up my blouse down so you can whip me? Go ahead. I live with you for fifteen years and I never done ask a petching thing, did I? I took care you, I dress you, I fed you, I take care of your horse, I clean your clothes, I done all it 'cause I loved you, Aramenta PEtching Stonewhistling. And I ask you one petching thing, After fifteen goddamned years I get the gumption to as' sumpin' of you, and the first goddamned thing you do is beat me. Go ahead then, Ama." she spit the secret, special nickname of their childhood with such venom it sounded like a curse, "Go ahead. Hit me. do it again. Make y'daddy proud."
Ara shook, angrily at the speech. And she looked at Livvy, she looked hard at her, her throat gasping. And Livvy looked back at her, defiant, bitter, hopeless, and so, so miserable. So miserable. And Ara looked at her, and she felt the fury pour out of her, vomited it up from her like she had with the contents of her stomach, leaving only the empty, aching, pulsing stomach behind. And she dropped her eyes, subserviently down. And very, very lowly, she leaned forward and kissed Livvy, just the lightest touch of her lips against the rough corner where the slave-girl's lips met her cheek. And Livvy shook under the touch, and her eyes closed. And Ara leaned forward, set her lips in their habitual intimacy, so close to the girls ear almost to touch the flesh.
"I'm sorry Livvy, friend. I'm sorry."
And Ara, exhausted and shaky fought her way to her feet, and turned, her head bowed, and walked, slowly, slowly, slowly back toward Endrykas.
---------
She lay in the bed sobbing for a quarter bell, and then, there was simply nothing left to sob. She'd cleaned out the last of emotion, and left herself hollow and empty-hearted again. She stared blankly at the wind-pulsed canvas wall.
It was another half-chime when she heard the canvas flap lift, and heard the familiar feet of Livvy cross the distance to her bed. She did not turn. She lay still as Livvy lay down wordlessly beside her, pulled her boots off her feet, and wrapped an arm around Ara, sniffling softly in her ear.
Niether of them moved or spoke for a moment. Finally Livvy whispered softly, "We gone make you the most beautiful bride the town ever seen. I promise."
Ara was silent, and still a moment, trying to feel anything but hopeless emptiness. The silence lasted for three full minutes, and Livvy simply lay still, requesting nothing of Ara. Finally Ara turned very softly in the bed, and leaned in to Livvy's ears. She murmured soft. "Will you do my braids?"
"I will if you let me."
She nodded, and was quiet a moment. Then said softly, "And when you do, will you tie them up with silver ribbon?"
Ara's eyes dropped, and she was silent for a beat. But she murmured very softly, "Yes'm."
Ara nodded softly, and lay on her back, her hands on her belly. Livvy did the same. And they both lay silent, unsleeping and solemn, until the sun rose on Ara's wedding day.x
