Fate weaver’s convergence

“Vaughn, wake up.”

 

“Hm?”

 

Beryl was nudging him gently, waking Vaughn from the nap he’d slinked into as he leaned against the window sill next to his bed. His sight was blurred, the mass of yellow eyes and teal-ish hair sharpening as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. He was watching the crowds a floor below from across the main shaft when he drifted, the soft draft creating a gentle drone that lulled him into the nap.

 

“What time is it?”

 

“Early afternoon, your dinner, thankfully, shouldn't be spoiled. C’mon, she worked hard on it.”

 

Vaughn stood slowly, letting his body catch up with his sleep. He slid his boots back on, pulling them up his heel.

 

“Jagoda? Or did Kiyomi rope Mizzel into making something?”

 

“No, Kiyomi made you lunch.”

 

“Oh, nice. Wait, who?”

 

He stood, hesitating as he passed Beryl to the door. 

 

“Kiyomi.”

 

Vaughn looked at the door, then back at Beryl.

 

“Bullshit.”

 

Beryl shrugged, smirking all the while she led him downstairs. The smell of something new pulled at Vaughns senses, the smell of pepper, and oil. As he followed Beryl, Kiyomi stood confidently at the table's side.

 

“Vaughn!. What are you waiting for? Chow’s gonna get cold!”

 

Kiyomi pulled one of the dining table chairs back, smiling as she looked at him.

---

“Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and a honeyed biscuit. For energy to follow up? Coffee, strong.”

 

I lowered the plate in front of him, a faint sense of pride welling up as I wiped my hands against my rag one last time. He seemed hesitant, as if someone had placed something in front of him that he’d never seen.

 

C’mon man, it’s good, trust me.

 

I smiled brightly, Beryl and Mizzel watching silently as they peeked around the corner. Raising one of the breaded morsels, Vaughn took his first bite. 

 

“Holy shit, that's good.”

 

He pulled apart a piece, examining its interior. Taking another bite, he followed it up by running the chicken through the potatoes. 

 

“You’re still saying she made this?”

 

He looked to the spectators. They nodded, and Vaughn returned the look to me as I stood proudly, my arms crossed and chin held high.

 

“You ain’t the only one that has a knack for it. I’m just not as clean about it.”

 

Vaughn continued to eat, chewing slowly each time. 

 

“So, on my work–”

 

He looked up each time, patting his chest as he ate.

 

“Dry?”

 

He nodded.

 

“Try the coffee. It's bitter, but it’ll help.”

 

Another series of bites and sips.

 

“Work will have me probably till lights out. Are you good to watch out for me over that? The nap did help, and–”

 

Vaughn held up the last chicken strip, waving it in the air before gulping it down. 

 

“I hadn’t exactly eaten much other than the eggs earlier, but you saw I needed the rest, at least. Thanks.”

---

Another two days passed, and Vaughn's work had him constantly going back and reassessing his math. I sharpened pencils, furnished parchment, and handed him references for conversion charts from the bookshelves. He went through two pots of coffee, and we even ate dinner in the study together. Vaughn wanted to complete his work, and Sabine and I avoided whatever tension we could in front of a crowd. Beryl seemed to intrude from time to time, but that seemed more like a general checkup mixed with notifying us of things. Her, Jagoda, Mizzel, and whoever else passed at any given moment felt an infuriating need to shift my work somehow. ‘Tie the apron closer to your waist’, ‘roll your sleeves properly,’ ‘you should talk a wee bit softer,’ ‘Wouldn’t this bow accentuate your horns?’, ‘You were trying to hide your chest?’ More and more bullshit that made me question my sanity as I either became flustered, or for some reason took to the words as physical challenges, thinking I could outdo them. It felt like a mirror of Kiyomi’s life, and the more I went with it, the more I questioned everything I did up to this point. With mother, with Lorn, with the guild, with–

 

Vaughn and Beryl.

 

The thought repeated itself over and over again, even past my own ability to dissociate with the moment.

 

Am I just making a mistake? Setting the same world of expectations for her that she fought growing up? And to them, I’m lying to them. When I do leave this world, to them, to her. How are they supposed to handle it?

 

I fought that feeling down, and I was sure the heightened emotions from my time of month did not help things. Here we sat now, the next day's end, and I was busy ‘playing housewife’ for Vaughn even when he was headed to bed.

 

“Here, I figured this would make it easier for you to get some sleep.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Vaughn slowly took the wooden cup of warmed milk from my hands, drinking it down as a sleep aid. The window to the main shaft was open, the ambient noise of flowing air relaxing him as he handed the cup back over and lay back.

 

“You put in a hell of a day's work, not surprising considering how I’ve watched you work before.”

He chuckled softly.

 

“Yeah, well, it was easier with the help. Used to be you would just idly watch me. That lunch and nap gave me the kick in the arse I needed.”

 

Laying back in his bed, he took a glance at my own. 

 

“She took that lack of combativeness to heart, didn't she?”

 

Vaughn gestured in Beryl’s direction; the Lamia splayed across both of our beds in a very poor attempt to gain warmth from me in the absence of a fire. A wisp of cool air flowed through the window with a short draft.

 

“It is getting to be winter, and It’ll be our first full season on our own too.”

 

We shared glances.

 

“It would be best if we could take some jobs to the west, maybe Francia. It’s warmer there for the season.”

 

I lifted the blanket off my bed, tossing it back over Beryl since I didn't intend to sleep so early myself. Two years of a bed on my own made me less inclined actually to fall asleep in one with another person. The ground was one thing; it was open and free to be taken. Just the same; falling asleep as I reclined on her tail was entirely different than waking up to her wrapped around me. Being that close to Beryl seemed uncomfortable for some reason on its own; I wasn’t able to pinpoint why, but it felt oddly similar to my discomfort when I woke up to Vaughn on the trip here. 

 

Waking up to her was easier, at least.

 

“You sleep well, I think I’ll take a walk and get this excess energy out of me.”

 

And hopefully, I will be so fuckin beat I pass out in bed.

 

“G’night.”

 

We waved to each other as I closed the door, the latch clicking as I did.

 

And now it’s just me.

 

I sighed.

 

Everyone is asleep. Jagoda should have taken Marek to bed. And Sabine’s team should have all turned in by now.

 

I looked over my clothes, Mizzel’s skirt and shirt mostly untouched by the day's craze, their difference from my norm both comforting and scary altogether. Shifting the cup in my grip, I made for the kitchen. I wasn’t one to leave dishes for our benefactors, regardless of whether that was how they made their money or not. 

 

Menial, routine, normal. 

 

Walking through the home, it was uncharacteristically quiet. The only noise was the flow of air or Marek’s odd snore. The kitchen was cleaned, and the soup remains sat in a pot atop the oven, keeping warm and free of spoiling for the time being. 

 

Clean the cup.

 

I sneered at myself, nudging the faucet as water poured into the cup, rinsing it of the milk that had once dirtied it.

 

Vaughn’s work is beyond me; most I ever had to worry about was working with a welder or mathing out the explosive weight for bombs. Fuck–

 

I sifted through our memories again, finding no affirmative equivalent from Kiyomi’s life. It was all people skills, with the exception of managing money. The math on the explosive yield that I noticed earlier in the day crossed my mind. 

 

That was weird, wasn’t it? Explosive force… City defenses were one thing, but what is the explosive yield for?

 

At first, I pressed the thought off, remembering that the quarries outside of Brenton needed explosives to break ground. However, following the memories of the conversations at the fire with Vaughn, it was more than likely the latter assumption. I thought of the First World War, the warfare of explosives planted under the enemy's feet, used to break the line.

 

Seems likely, given Krakow is supposed to supply stone as trade for our lumber.

 

I opened a cabinet and looked to place the cup in its original location. Mizzel gave it to me, though, so I had no actual knowledge of where they were yet. One of the cabinets I opened had bottles of cheap wine and mead, and I actually hesitated as I closed it. The next cabinet was the one I was looking for, clean and packed with clean cups and mugs. 

 

How much gold do I have on me?

 

I dug through one of the pouches at the waist of the skirt, pulled two coins free, and placed them in the liquor cabinet. 

 

That should be enough.

 

I pulled a half-empty bottle of mead by its neck. The floor edge was exposed to the cool air of the main shaft, and I aimed to make it my not-so-private drinking spot. I left as quiet as I could manage, the front door making not even a creaking noise. The only thing that threw a possible wrench in the plan was coming across a not-so-pleasant companion as I turned the corner. 

 

“For fuck sake, do I just run into you everywhere I go?”

 

Sabine, quiet and brooding, looked over her shoulder. Her face and hair were illuminated by the reflections of moonlight.

 

“The room I was given is lacking in terms of view. The shaft is basically the best  I can get.”

 

She was lacking the bitch mask she usually carried, her eyes carrying the same strange pity she wielded after dragging me back from the temple. I approached the edge, hesitating as the newfound fear of heights came, then subsided. Lowering myself to sit alongside her, I uncorked the bottle, taking a light sip to test at its flavor and strength. 

 

“I take your mellow tone as an invitation?”

 

Sabine nodded, short and to the point. I motioned the bottle at her, cork pulled and its smell wafting about us. She looked at it for a long hard moment, then looked back at the sky. 

 

“In a moment, I am still pondering something.”

 

I took another swig, placing the bottle on the stone between us. I settled with this moment to let the thoughts flow freely, concentrating on individual questions as I could manage them. Sabine wasn’t one to talk; I knew that well enough, so at least I could count on the silence.

 

I wonder how Mother is holding up. And Callum? That talk we had on the roof. Poor bastard. 

 

A swig from Sabine, the bottle clinking to the stone. 

 

“Wouldn’t take a noble girl for a drinker.”

 

My words were quiet, unpointed. 

 

“Whether one is, or is not, is none of your business.”

 

I’ll never say you aren't consistent. 

 

“But…”

 

Sabine was quiet. 

 

“Your shit trip, so far, is not occurring in a vacuum.”

 

A swig from myself.

 

“That’s fair.”

 

Things are slated to look better, though, right? Beryl’s birthday, my meetings with Aethelwulf, and maybe learning the guitar… Yeah, I’ll definitely take that offer.

 

“Hollow point.”

 

Sabine spoke her name for me quietly.

 

“Hm?”

 

I took another swig.

 

“You are different since the temple. I caught glimpses of it eavesdropping. Is that why you are here now?”

 

Fuck off, I don’t want to talk to the people I love– That’s what they are, like family, I guess. Why the fuck would I tell you? Fuck– something else, something else, the construction work, the contest coming up over the next year. 

 

“Stuff it up your ass and let it rot.”

 

The response I gave felt out of place, like I would’ve reserved that kind of response for a fight before. It was either the liquor talking or the difference in behavior, the death of my standalone personality. Another reason to take a swig, as I soon did. I placed the bottle back on the stone, nudging it at Sabine as a halfhearted ‘ignore my words’ gesture. 

 

“Noted.”

 

She whispered, taking her turn at the bottle now.

 

Speaking of loved ones, Beryl’s birthday is coming up. Vaughn’s sixteenth comes at the end of this next winter, maybe I should plan something for him?

 

I thought of my buckler.

 

No, it's too thick to re-forge into something workable, and it’s too heavy as it is… I only turned fourteen three months ago, so I’ll have to work at the guild rating workaround that Beryl mentioned. Maybe take up some solo work? I do have disguise as a skill; maybe I can pull something with that.

 

I sighed, taking the bottle from Sabine’s hand as she placed it down once more. 

 

“What have you been up to? Don’t see you running about the place.”

 

A swig from myself, one that nearly took me off balance as it was hitting me. I looked down the center of the shaft for a second, and the lack of balance let me know very clearly that I couldn’t take any risks now. 

 

Backing up from there.

 

A slow scoot to the rear, laying back against the stone as I parted from the edge. Sabine gave back the answer I furnished for her when she asked of my condition. 

 

“As you say, ‘stuff it up your ass?”

 

I stifled a chuckle, while Sabine was all too content and smug to throw my insult back at me. 

 

“Fair.”

 

We sat like that for some time, her, pondering on whatever bitch thoughts she did, taking her own spare sips at the bottle. While I worked up what thoughts I could, the desperation was getting to me, and all at once, a lapse in judgment. 

 

“I’m coming apart at the seams, I think.”

 

I muttered. Silence, a swig from each of us.

 

“Continue.”

 

I looked over to her.

 

Fuck it, better someone I don’t have to see every day. At least after we leave.

 

I sighed, exhaling all my pent-up tension the best I could with the few words I chose to share.

 

Nope, still tense. 

 

“I’m worried I may not be the same person I once was. What I did in that temple… it changed me. I was looking for answers. And I sure as hell got some… I–”

 

I sat up, looking down at my hands as they wavered under my drunkenness, and the world swirled around me. 

 

“I– can feel– changes, changes I didn't want.”

 

I dropped my hands, my knuckles settling on the floor. 

 

“I didn't anticipate… And it scares me.”

More silence, a spare thought entering my head. Off topic, yet pertinent to my worries considering the first day here. 

 

“Hey, about that test at the gate.”

 

I could see Sabine turn around, for once actually curious about the conversation, especially given I derailed myself. 

 

“There was something I think you should know about it, but I'm not sure how much it will matter, though.”

 

I could see her standing, picking up the bottle, and drinking once more. She seemed to swirl it around for a second, testing for how much was left. 

 

“What of it?”

 

She was short and to the point. 

 

C’mon, perfect time as any. Forget your woe-is-me bullshit and at least give her what you can. You know those things exist in this world, you’ve seen it… 

 

“I may be crazy here, it was familiar. I think it’s a bit more than some sickness–”

 

I paused, cut off by the bottle tapping against my shoulder. I took it, holding it in my hands like a lifeline to keep my words straight. 

 

“I don’t have proof, but, it seems bad.”

 

I raised the bottle, drinking what was left of the mead and its debris as its last swig of liquor passed my lips. I looked up, Sabine emotionless in the face of the warning I could muster.

 

“We passed. That is all that you need to concern yourself with, is it not?”

 

She raised a brow, tapping my shoulder. 

 

“Well?”

 

She smirked, a rare expression in the face of her usual mood.

 

“Yeah, we did,”

 

I looked across the shaft, imagining the sights if those tests hadn’t been false. A writhing horror, flesh and fire. 

 

“Then what is there to fear of that? You seem more perturbed by the ‘answers’ you received.”

 

I nodded to the side, coming to my feet and wavering with the last of the liquor.

 

Her words make some sort of sense. And this conversation, why the hostility until then? The temple?

 

“Hey, Sabine.”

 

I asked, clutching the bottleneck in my hand.

 

“Why talk to me now?”

 

I locked gazes with her, the same curiosity present.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

She asked, with neither the usual pity, nor the hatred, just curiosity.

 

“You hated me, right?”

 

Her gaze shifted some before she looked away and sighed.

 

“Maybe bring some drinks like this again, I will ruminate about it. But–”

 

She looked back at me before a slight sense of shock glinted in her eyes. Then, back with the hatred, the searing abhorrence she usually wielded. 

 

What is that?!

 

Her expression shifted into a sneer before looking down and averting it. 

 

“You’ll know someday.”

 

She made to walk away, pausing just a moment.

 

“My spear and your sword. We are meant to be this way, and you know enough of me to answer that question yourself… A noble’s daughter is meant for more with a weapon like that… See you tomorrow, same time. Do not brush me off.”