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writevswrong · 6 years

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Eris Fanfic * When The Last Ember Falls * Chapter Fourteen

When The Last Ember Falls by L.J. LaFleur

Nesta:

I waited until he fell asleep, until his breaths were even before I rested my head beside his. My back was aching, just beneath my jagged scars. I knew I wouldn’t hear the end of it if I had asked him.

I could use a woman in my bed, what a scoundrel.

Lying beside him softened the pain in my ribs. I couldn’t explain it, how his presence soothed the heartache. Maybe because he was my best friend; an easiness to our relationship I had never encountered before? These perpetual thoughts didn’t matter, only that he’s alive and well. Happy.

My eyelids grew heavier and heavier until I could no longer watch over Eris. I needed to rest so I could function tomorrow. Who knows what dawn will bring us.

A gust of wind made my teeth chatter, the bumps on my skin rising. I scooted closer, resting my head against his warm shoulder. “Goodnight, Eris,” I mumbled just before falling into a world that balanced between dreams and nightmares.

I stood on the shore, the same one I’ve dreamed of since waking up from the autumn war. The place where salty waves and thick grains of sand meet the endless rows of aspen and red maple trees.

Inhaling the salty, crisp air, I felt myself surrender. “I love it here,” I admitted, catching his fiery hair out of the corner of my eye.

Eris stepped forward to be beside me. Concentrating on the crashing waves, he asked, “is this the view from my window?”

“Yes,” I replied, the curve of my lips enlarging. I wouldn’t be able to explain it; why seeing an infinite amount of blue mended my broken heartstrings. It just did.

He stole a peek at me, “it’s breathtaking,” he agreed.

I turned away, drifting along the shoreline. The hem of my dress soaking into the frigid waters. I willed the fire from within to coil around my toes, just as he had taught me in the copper tub.

“I can tell you have something to say.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, I bent down to pick up a defective obsidian shell. “I hate that you read me so well,” I remarked, gently brushing my fingers against the ribbed edges.

Eris caught sight of another black shell, one in perfect condition. “I thought women loved a man who picked up on little details,” he implored, handing me the sea gem.

I analyzed the two shells, both so beautiful—whole and broken. Commenting on the rarity of finding two onyx shells, I finally answered him, “I cannot speak for all women, we’re complicated creatures.” I admired our findings one last time before releasing them back to the ocean.

“As long as you admit it...” he joked, rubbing his untamed beard as he waited for me to slap him.

“Miscreant.”

“Siren.”

We stopped only once so he could roll up his pant legs. He raised his hand, inviting me to step further into the sea. I reached for him, letting him guide me to where the water came up to his shins. Releasing his hand, I lifted my dress up. In hopes that I would avoid further restrictions since I was much smaller than him.

His legs wrapped with fire, extending all the way up to his thighs. As did mine. “So, fireheart, tell me your tale of woes,” Eris commanded, a signature smirk in place.

His term of endearment made my knees weaken. This was merely a dream and he was only a figment of my imagination. So, what did I have to lose? “Only if you hold your judgement till the very end,” I requested, turning to face my friend.

Eris nodded, clasping his hands behind his back. He raised to his full height to let me know that he was ready. He was taller than I remembered, broader in the shoulders as well.

I recited my story, even the moments I was sure he already knew of. Every fear, every event of shame and all the broken pieces of my history. I let him see me. The decent and the ugly.

Starting with my father, his failures that had damaged me so deeply that I intern failed my sisters. That Feyre, the youngest, turned into our provider as I let us rot in hopes father would do something—anything.

I smiled as I spoke of Elain’s gardening skills and Feyre’s paintings. Both so talented and all I had were my books. I told him I saw the world in the novels I read but I wanted more. I wanted to experience life outside of our human village—maybe travel to the different continents one day.

These precious pieces of someone else’s adventures that I clung to, in hopes that I too would write about mine, had been my light at the end of the path.

That was until she killed the wolf. The day everything changed.

I could no longer read due to the trauma—to my shame—that haunted me. I didn’t know that she couldn’t read. I didn’t know that she suffered in silence as I berated her out of guilt. I did not deserve happiness after all I had done to my sisters, that much I knew.

It felt easy speaking to Eris, maybe that was why I unloaded all the weight of regret, my “tale of woes” onto him. The only sign of emotion, a flicker if you will, was when I told him of what Tamlin did in the woods. When I moved the material of my dress so he could see the tips of the jagged lines; I saw his amber eyes ablaze.

When I was about to ask him what was wrong, he beckoned for me to continue.

I obliged, thinking nothing more of his reaction.

From explaining my experience in the cauldron as Ronan’s queen of death to what it felt like to emerge from hell. Why tubs and cauldrons scared me to my wits end. So much so that I had to bathe with buckets out of fear of seeing Ronan, afraid the whispers would drag me back to him.

I recounted our time in the copper tub, the one in his room. The day Eris forced me to step into it, to face my fear since I most likely smelled of piss and rot. It was when he taught me how to light up in the darkness, to catch fire, that I finally felt whole. Safe.

I backed up, forgetting an important piece of my past, the part that led me to him. Of what happened in Velaris. How I nearly killed everyone and not just once.

When he found me in the woods, I had lost my way in body and soul. I didn’t feel comfortable in my own skin but he taught me how to control my magic—he gave me a second chance at life. I would have died in that forest if he hadn’t found me. Not from the trolling predators of the night but by myself. The string of sanity that was splitting, that’s what would have done me in.

Clearing my throat, I reached farther. I plucked out every bit of me for him to see.

As a human I felt things deeply, locking the emotions away without difficulty. But now, every feeling had amplified. I cried a lot, that was the worst part of it. That sometimes I couldn’t stop; how I begged the universe to make it stop.

I clenched my fist, digging my sharp nails into my palm. “When you stopped me,” I faltered, unable to meet his eyes. “When you split my being. My, my power—whatever it is,” I crooked my jaw to the side, this was harder than I thought. This wasn’t real and I could barely get the words out.

His mouth twisted into a grimace as he focused on the sea foam, “if it meant your survival, that you would live another day…” those burning, amber irises flashed to me.

“Eris…”

“Don’t. You do not need to apologize to me, Nesta.” His voice heavy, thickening with emotion, “I would rather lose you to him than to death. At least I would get to see you again. I would see your smile and hear your voice. You would get to live happily ever after, as they say. That is enough for me.”

I couldn’t tell him what happened between Cassian and me. How we fought like wild animals every day or that we broke up in an alley only hours before I arrived here. I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

There was a lull in conversation as we both regained our steel composure. I didn’t realize we had walked all the way to the border between autumn and spring. Seeing the transition, the blending of the two courts looked unbelievable.

My mouth had opened, my compliments unable to reach my lips. Cream roses and maple trees intertwined effortlessly. A buzz of magic filled the air, the temperature rising. A beautiful sight, but my eyes always went back to the yellow, red and orange trees of this court. I focused on the pop of gold that sprouted between the dense tree line.

Red didn’t scare me—scar me—like it had before. I couldn’t understand it. How my fear of dark water and crimson didn’t cripple me anymore. It doesn’t mean I wasn’t still affected to a certain degree but I could do it; I survived. I guess I have him to thank.

Eris’ voice floated to me, enraptured me, “I would never judge you, whether for your past, present or future.”

My brows knitted together, holding my breath, “how could you not?”

“How could I judge you when I’ve killed my own brothers?” he scoffed, running his fingers through his windswept hair as he scrutinized the oncoming set of waves.

I closed my eyes, knowing he felt the same pain as me. “It’s not the same,” I replied with a burdensome heart, clutching the linen fabric of my gown.

“No, it’s worse,” he corrected me. “I’ve done some very cruel, awful things.” Eris didn’t continue, instead he sucked in his bottom lip and bit down as he debated what to say next.

A larger wave knocked into us, his body blocking me from a direct hit. “You will tell me in time. When you realize that I too, will not judge you.” I shook my head at the fire wielding High Lord, “you saved me, you fool.”

“It was merely a wave,” he sassed, “I think you would have been able to handle it, Gryphon.”

“You know I’m not speaking of the crashing waves.”

“I could not save Lys, barely saved Mor and Lucien. I am not worthy of being called a savior, Nesta.” He scratched his bearded cheek, opening his mouth to confess, “monster’s do not save people, they damn them.”

“Then why did you, the so-called monster, save me?”

He didn’t speak while his eyes searched mine. Pupils flaring as he shifted forward. I could feel the water luring back towards the open sea. The flames around our feet connecting with one another.

“If you are a monster,” I felt myself edge closer, my heart beating erratically, “then I am as well, Eris Van—”

The smallest noise distracted me. I turned my head away, scanning the edge of the Autumn woods. It was not a noise of the sea or the rustling of leaves.

Flames enraged, my eyes glowed white as the door creaked open. I slid off the bed, rushing towards the intruder.

“It’s me, it’s me!” the guardian shouted, her hands above her head in surrender. “Cauldron be damned, y, y, you are horrifying,” she sputtered, her face fresh with a sheen of sweat as she took in my mid-transformation stage.

The sun had barely made its way to the horizon, the sky still dark with fading suns. “What are you doing here this early?” I demanded, forcing the fire and onyx talons back into my skin and bones.

Cindra’s eyes caught on the busted seams of my bodice, “I’m sorry for the intrusion but I needed to speak with you before my lord was up.” She pointed to her breasts, then to me as she surveyed the ceiling.

Flustered, I held my ripped gown up. If anyone did ever create magical clothing so I could transform back and forth without being naked, that would be wonderful. “About?” I yawned helplessly, turning my head into my bare shoulder to not be rude.

“Your chambers are ready.”

“What?”

“The High Lord,” was all she said, venturing into the dimly lit hallway.

I glanced to Eris, he was still in a deep slumber. It wouldn’t hurt to look, I told myself. I followed the guardian out of the room, down the hall and to the last door on the right. “He has me on the same floor as him?” I observed with a hushed tone.

Cindra’s eyes widened with worry, her hand tightened around the copper doorknob, “unless you don’t want to be. I can see what other rooms are available, if you’d like.”

“No, no. It’s fine. I just…” I stopped speaking, my head and tongue not able to connect as she pushed the door open. My heart unable to comprehend the beauty within the massive stone walls.

The room had a similar layout to Eris’ except there was a large balcony, facing the rising sun. A jeweled leaf ceiling made of sunstones, carnelian and citrine, intricately fell into a chandelier made of faelights. The warm, shimmering lights grew brighter as I walked through the doorway.

My jaw slacked as I looked to the bed. The posts were made out of magnolia trees, all connecting together to form a frame for the mattress. The branches held hundreds of blooms, ranging from white to pink and purple. I could barely breathe as I stepped further into the room—my room.

Throat throbbing, tears threatening to form.

To the left was a cabinet, blue like the bird eggs from the human realm. The stained glass was formed into the Autumn Court’s signature red maple leaf, one on each panel. From there I looked to the opened doors, the view…

With watery eyes I stepped forward, seeing straight to the ocean I had been so fond of.

“How do you like it?” Eris whispered from the doorway.

I turned wildly, feeling as if I might explode with so many different emotions, I didn’t know what to say. Cindra had left at some point, possibly retrieving him as I stood in a daze.

Eris was heavily relying on the wall to keep him upright, his complexion not as ghostly but his bandages were soaked red.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” I croaked. I raised my hands to my throat, horrified by the sound I had made.

He unleashed a smile despite the pain in his voice, “I wanted to see your reaction.”

Retreating towards the blue cabinet, I sniffled, “it’s beautiful.” I opened it slowly, unsure if I could handle another surprise from him. It was filled with books. My own private library of sonnets and star-crossed lovers. Amber droplets were in full attack mode as I brushed my fingers against the novel he had once read to me.

“I’m glad you like it,” he breathed with great effort while treading closer and closer.

I shut the cabinet doors, my body aching from such a gift. A treasure I did not deserve. “You shouldn’t be walking, let alone standing,” I attempted to nag him but all I could hear were the whispers singing his name.

Eris stood beside me, a pillar of steel, as his voice strained, “I’m tired of being in bed. It makes me feel weak.”

“You are far from weak,” I scolded him, still failing at keeping my cold demeanor. It didn’t sound like a reprimand. It was more like a whimper, a pathetic little cry. My eyes bored into the floor, I counted as many cracks as I could—wishing for my emotions to flee.

He tilted my chin up with a fiery knuckle. Admiration and light increasing with the passing seconds, “then take a walk with me?”

I bit my lip till it nearly bled so I would not weep. I didn’t want to cry in front of him, I wanted to smile. He deserved that at the very least. “You present this room and then ask me to leave paradise?” I chastised him with a devious look.

Eris shrugged, the muscles in his jaw feathering, “you can always come back.”

I knew what he really meant. I was always welcome here in his court for however long I wanted. A room with a view that had brought me great joy despite the pain I once endured. An escape from the Night Court, from the monsters of my nightmares.

I moved to his side, unleashing a smile made of affectionate starlight. Tenderly wrapping my arm around his, I asked, “where to?”

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birdsofchristmas · 4 years

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Chapter 3: A Moose in the Hoose

My aunt and uncle are city folk by origin, though you could hardly tell from their outdoorsy lifestyle punctuated weekly by drives to the mountains outside Banff and Canmore, excursions to Thailand and South America, and shelf upon shelf of books on skiing, mountaineering, and paddling.

It makes sense that the house they chose to live in had just the right balance of city and nature. Last year they’d bought a house in a new development in Northwest Calgary previously occupied solely by herds of moose, white tailed deer and elk. A 20 minute walk from their property reached down to the mighty bow River, fed by glaciers by way of lake Louise and winding through the busiest metropolitan areas of downtown.

“Hands over your heart for the mighty bow” my uncle was often known to say everytime we drove over a bridge from one river bank to the other, telling us stories of the Blackfoot who had settled and hunted and fished in the foothills, pointing to a few clearings where archeology students from the university of Calgary had found evidence of their habitation.

Like it or not whenever you settle down to build a place to call home something or someone is always displaced to some degree. In Vancouver when new condos are built residents in the former run down buildings are sent packing, sometimes to homelessness and other times to a cycle of one insecure housing arrangement to the next.

Further out towards suburbs and outlying bedroom communities trees and forests are the ones displaced. One day you might find yourself walking in a meadow enjoying solitude in nature, the next a mysterious sign with pictures of new houses and roads appears on the edge of the forest property, by the next year the forest is all but disappeared and replaced with scores of new single family houses, in a neighborhood named after the very forest areas demolished to accommodate them- names like “Maple Meadows”, “Eagle Mountain Ridge”, or “Aspen Grove”.

You don’t have to look too far back to realize the truth that for every settling there is an unsettling. In the case of my aunt and uncle’s neighborhood it was the home of a large population of moose being redeveloped. On the bright side it meant if I wanted to see a real live moose up close I wouldn’t have to look very far, or stray too deeply away from my family to do so.

This past winter was their 3rd year on the property, and I was visiting again for Christmas. “Well, nature always finds a way,” my uncle was telling as we drove out of the airport, “When we first moved here there was a controversy because the development was built right near a forest known with hundreds of moose. But now they’re starting to move back in because all the places they eat are here- see if you look to the right here, all those bushes have twigs and rosehips the the moose eat, it’s amazing really a creature that big survives just eating twigs!”

We drove past rivers, natural ponds and rolling hills while he continued, “And you see those patches of aspen trees? The reason the tree trunks are all dark brown near the bottom and still white on the rest is that elk and deer come along and eat the bark, and they can only reach up the tree so far!”

The development couldn’t have asked for a more respectful or appreciative couple to call it home as my aunt and uncle. At some point in every conversation we’d had since they’d moved in the topic of a new animal they’d seen or story they’d heard about the area’s history would come up.

When we arrived at the house my aunt greeted us at the door with coffee. It was early in the morning and she was off to work at their post office while my uncle was on his way to his carpentry work. I rested at the house, took a long nap, and woke in the early afternoon for a walk.

It was -23 and chilly. There was daylight and full visibility but I could hardly see the road. In my mind I’d decided this was less a walk and more a mission to locate the wild moose populations and befriend them. I’d start by introducing myself from 200 metres away, the next day I’d move 180 metres away, slowly making my presence known and creating a sense of familiarity until one day like Jane Goodall’s communing with chimps they would welcome me as one of their own.

I don’t know why I thought this plan would work for finding moose or elk, it hadn’t worked so far with raccoons, rabbits, or coyotes, and had only marginal success with cats and dogs. I spotted a few moose but didn’t get nearly close enough to be regarded as anything even close to familiar. Plus with the cold and wind chill my patience dwindled quickly. At one point I was tracking a set of hoof prints in the snow in a clearing. I walked about 10 feet into the clearing when my left foot broke into a patch of ice sinking knee deep in seconds! I caught myself and fell flat on my face with an OOOF, turned on my back and dragged myself to the shore half-soaked and muddy.

It just figures it was my real foot that fell into the ice, the foot that still feels cold and pain and stubbing and sharp pebbles in the carpet and frostbite! My fake foot meanwhile sat happy and content in a dry shoe the whole way back to the house.

I must have been walking for close to an hour before I fell in the ice because it felt like hours walking home chilly and embarrassed. Was I lost I wondered? No, it’s just over that hill… over the top of the hill there were more hills, more houses, more streets and cars and former wildlife habitats because everything in Calgary looks the same! Having learned my lesson from many previous visits and countless hours being lost I turned on my phone, opening the GPS and google maps. My heart sank as I realized I’d walked 6km in the wrong direction.

My heart sank further when I dragged my feet into the driveway when I also realized I’d forgotten to close the double doors at the rear of the house. Then I noticed there were two sets of footprints in the snow leading to the backyard. There were my footprints and what looked like ones belonging to a clown walking on stilts… with hoof marks…

Now I’ve heard the expression ‘like letting a bull loose in a China shop’ sometimes used to describe my siblings and I in a candy store, but I’d never heard the term 'like letting a moose loose in the kitchen!’ I’d probably just assume the moose would cook brunch and watch a hockey game because I have a strange imagination.

When I walked carefully and quietly into the house and into the kitchen I did not see a moose cooking brunch or watching hockey. I saw a moose trying to open a cupboard with his nose.

The moose must have thought I was a wolf when he smelled me, because at that point he tried to find the nearest exit and use it as such, first slamming his 450 pound body against a wall then bouldering towards the living room! I ran through the kitchen down the hall and upstairs to safety secure in my hope that mooses didn’t know to climb stairs!

I knew the only way to release the moose back into the wild would be to scare him out through the back doors, but that I would probably lose my life doing so. But how do you scare a moose? I knew the way to scare a black bear was to make a ton of noise, the way to scare a cougar was to open your jacket and make yourself look big, the way to scare a cat was turning on the vacuum, and there was no way to scare a grizzly bear so the best thing to do if I saw one up close was to make peace with God.

I took off my coat and paced back and forth in the hallway upstairs trying to think of what to do. Meanwhile the moose casually sauntered back into the kitchen and went back to work on opening the cupboard.

I decided eventually the best idea would be banging a pot until I could open the double doors and scare the moose out, only I couldn’t reach a pot since the moose was occupying the kitchen… then I remembered there was a stainless steel heron ornament in the corner of the staircase I’d bought my aunt as a housewarming gift. I didn’t have a wooden spoon upstairs either, so I opted for my bamboo toothbrush instead.

I crept down with stairs with the heron in one hand and the toothbrush in the other, slowly at first, then I started stomping and yelling in a mad rush to face the forces of nature head on and prevail! Shocked and wild-eyed the moose barreled back into the living room and in a burst of energy I bolted into the hall leading to the back garage door pounding the open switch and rolling under and out into the front yard!

My pace never broke as I rounded the house to the front picture window. I looked up, huffing and puffing, and there in the window was the moose, calmly and serenely beginning to eat scraps of evergreen off the Christmas tree. I banged on the window but the moose didn’t stir an inch. I tried the front door and it was locked, so I ran back to the garage door, arriving just in time to hear a wooden thud as the automatic gear had closed it. I stomped towards the double doors in time to hear them slam closed too, blown shut by the wind leaving me stranded in the cold. I reached for my keys and remembered they were in the left pocket of my coat!

When animal control arrived I was turning almost blue except for my prosthetic leg which was a consistent silver shade from the titanium and carbon fibre. One of the neighbors had called the RCMP telling them he had seen a crazed man running out of the house yelling and waving a sharp looking metal object. At first he thought it was a domestic dispute until he saw Bullwinkle sitting in the front picture window contentedly picking away at the Christmas tree, and if mooses could smile and chuckle I was sure the moose was doing that too.

And just as you’d imagine how the aftermath of a bull in a china shop would look, the clean and meticulously tidy house looked just like a giant moose had bumbled through it, made himself breakfast and fell asleep in the living room before being lead back to the woods, complete with muddy hoof marks on the carpet and scrapes on the wall from the wild heron. My aunt eventually returned home to see me sitting in the back of a police cruiser in the driveway, trying to warm up and think of how I was going to explain this to her and my uncle.

I imagine the moose had every right to tromp through the house uninvited. In fact there’s a good chance the moose was born in the very yard the house was built. Perhaps he recognized the smell of the soil, or the way the breeze rolled off the plains towards the lawn, down a certain series of hills before settling down in a location that catches a certain amount of good sunlight, where the best tasting rosehips for miles just so happened to grow well in abundance. The moose may have remembered the spot from his childhood, returning there as often as the sun rose to rest in the shade of the new house. And lucky him that day, the owner of the house left the door open inviting him in.

I felt that day I was a guest in the moose’s house instead of the other way around. I was happy to enjoy the moose’s hospitality, even happy to return to meet him again on occasion, meeting his family of other young mooses who would grow to regard my aunt and uncles’ neighborhood with the same instinctive fondness their ancestors had, before any of them had ever heard of humans or front lawns or rows and rows of nearly identical houses lined with lights on every tree.

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