Dryad Eyes, part 27
1,766!
Once again, I find myself returning to what I thought was a throw-a-way character from several entries back. I love doing that. Erek, himself, is evidence of that.
Vy Miegga, the florist, sat alone in her comfortably large bedroom. It was orderly, it was clean, and she had yet to leave it though an entire day had passed. She had not bothered to open her little flower shop the day before. Lifting her eyes to the mirror on the dressing table before her, Vy took in her appearance. As the state of her mind had begun affecting the trappings of her life, it had already lain into her appearance. Her eyes were red, from the crying she had done and was still doing. Normally neat and perfectly styled after the latest local fashions, her short brown hair was in tangled disarray. It looked as if, though she was not entirely certain, she had lost weight. That was something that her already slight frame could scarcely afford.
From the beginning, she had known that her 'relationship' with Geran was a short-term affair. That had been her intention. A fling with the king, she had thought, would be a new and fun experience. In the beginning, Vy had not even found him to be very attractive. He was too big, too bulky. Though there was little to any fat on his body, at least not that she had ever found, his sheer, overall size had made her look smaller than she liked to. On top of that, he wore a beard. Why would anyone ever want a beard? There was something about him, though. She had quickly discovered that he was smarter than she had expected. A conversation with him could be captivating in a way that she rarely experienced with men. He was different in other ways, too. Inside of him was this great well of warmth that she had encountered. It had reached down, deep into her heart, passing through all the ice, the walls, and the locked doors that served as her defenses against... well, everyone. That was the worst part. Vy had fallen in love with the man, and even though she had known that they had both expected a temporary affair, even though she had known that she had been steadily losing him for weeks, she had never spoken up. She had never uttered so much as a syllable that would even begin to imply her true feelings. Finally, he was gone, moved on, and there was no one that she could blame but herself.
Movement in the mirror behind her caught her eye. It was strange, how there seemed to be a person behind her, standing over her chair, so long as she did not look directly at him. When she did that, she could see that she was still alone. However, should she look away again, she could still see him. It must be a trick of the light, she decided after the briefest of contemplations. From the wrong, obscured angle, the candles and textures of the room behind her merged to form a man-like shape, and her over-active imagination filled in the details. A half-smile tugged at Vy's lips. Of course it was a man that her mind had made up, and of course he was nude, with strange body art covering the majority of his exposed flesh. Oh yes, and blond hair. Perhaps her grief was playing a role in this illusion as well. Such a man was much more her type, on the surface, than Geran had ever been.
Her eyes fell again, and focused on the pink flower on the right side of the table. There was nothing special about it. It was both indigenous to the area and common. Hundreds of them would cover the hills at the base of the mountains, where flatlands rolled forth and spread outward from the mouth of Gateway's first wall. Being who she was, Vy could have grown a hundred herself, even in the dead of winter, at virtually no expense. This flower, however, had come to her several months ago, when she and Geran had gone for a walk together. This had been significant because, first, she had just begun to accept her feelings for him and, second, because although he was known for his 'conquests,' he was rarely seen with them in public. How high her hopes had been that day! As they made their way back to her home, he had plucked this particular flower from a patch of grass that had begun to grow in the space left by a building that had been demolished ruing the Great Battle. With deft fingers, he had tucked it into her hair, caressed her face, and favored her with one of the most dazzling smiles she had ever seen. She had kept the flower, putting it in water after he had left her house the next morning. Ever since, she had used every bit of her considerable talent to maintain the flower, and hence the memory, but it was finally beginning to wilt. This brought new tears to her already wet eyes.
The imaginary man in the mirror moved, causing Vy to stiffen in her seat. Still, he was not there when she set her eyes directly upon him. Still, he leaned forward, close, placing his clawed hands on the ornate back of the chair in which she sat. She was beginning to panic. What sort of devilry was this? Was she going mad?
"He did this to you." The thing-- she was certain, upon hearing its darkly textured voice that it was more a 'thing' than a 'man'-- whispered to her.
"He did exactly as I expected." Vy said evenly. Perhaps her imagination was still playing tricks on her. Though the creature was almost visible, though she could hear it, her voice still sounded startlingly real, as if she had been sitting in silence before interrupting it herself. "We were never meant to be... more."
"You wanted more," came the eerily soft reply. This thing, whatever it was, figment or reality, was enjoying this. "He knew it."
Panic, again, threatened to overtake her. The idea that Geran had discerned how she felt, and that that was why he had moved on, had occurred to her more than once. Remembering the warmth within him, however, Vy had to believe that he would have spoken to her about it if that were the case. She had to believe in him, she insisted to herself. "He couldn't have. I never spoke up about it."
"He knew." Laughter lurked just beneath the surface of the imaginary creature's not-quite-real voice. "And he used it to use you. To ensure your compliance with his... perversity."
"No!" She was becoming angry. Whether that anger was to be directed at the speaker or the idea it had presented, she was not certain.
"It's true." It leaned closer. Its presence pressed firmly against her back, almost as real as a physical touch. When it spoke again, its voice sounded thicker than before, more real. Its breath brushed her ear causing her blood to run cold. For a figment of her imagination, this was becoming frighteningly real. "He did that, he did everything."
"And you let him."
"I--" Vy could not quite find her voice. Looking back, there were a great number of things that she and Geran had done together, in private, that had been very interesting. Having been not exactly inexperienced herself, she had been impressed by his ingenuity and the entire world of possibilities he had opened up for her. Suddenly, those things seemed somehow horrible and sordid. What was wrong with her? Sniffling and flushed with embarrassment, she concluded her statement lamely. "We did nothing I did not desire at the time."
"How heartless he is." The thing, no, the Monster behind her murmured, doing its best impression of sympathy. As filthy, vile, and hateful as it seemed, she could not bring herself to stop listening. She still believed it to be, mostly, a figment of her imagination. If it was that, then, whatever it had to say must be coming from within her. If these were her thoughts, or the thoughts of some deeply hidden part of herself that she was not quite in touch with, then she needed to hear them, did she not? "It is his nature, you know. It is what they do."
"Who?"
"Dryads."
Vy had no answer for this. She, along with most of the rest of the city, had heard Geran's announcement concerning his heritage. Several days had passed since then, and she had yet to determine exactly how she felt about that. In her homeland, where dryads were known of only in the sense that they were a problem that existed half a continent away, they were still not considered a proper topic of conversation in polite company. Beyond the occasional comment she had overheard, and the brief explanation of what they were that her mother had given her when she had been a curious child, Vy had never given any real thought or consideration to dryads. Now, in this moment, she wished that she had researched them at some point, for some reason, so that she might have something to say back to this hateful manifestation.
"He is so cruel..."
"No." The florist shook her head. Whatever was going on, whatever her personal hang-ups were, Vy could not yet bring herself to tolerate this monster's continued assault on Geran's persona. "He is warm and... and caring. Whatever else, he is a good man!"
"He seduced you."
"I let him."
"Yessss..." The creature at her back hissed, it's voiced filled with mirth. It was mocking her. She could feel it. Snatching up a book that she had been reading from its resting place on the left side of her dressing table, she brought it up and used it to smite the hateful visage in the mirror. Again, she struck, and again, until not a shard of glass was left standing.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Vy cried. Then, her rage spent, she allowed herself to slump back into her cushioned chair. Her book slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor. Raising her hands, she gazed at the blood that flowed from the cuts she had received where her hands had come into contact with the mirror. She did not remember that happening. Leaning forward, unmindful of the shards that covered her table, or the stinging pain in her right elbow that told her that she had found the edge of one of them, Vy buried her face in her bleeding hands and allowed herself to cry in earnest.
"Just shut up."
I've added music from the bands Fidget and All the Hellbound to the Hideaway Radio station (http://s3.myradiostream.com/26118.htm ), as well as a song from the Tearaways.
Once again, I find myself returning to what I thought was a throw-a-way character from several entries back. I love doing that. Erek, himself, is evidence of that.
Vy Miegga, the florist, sat alone in her comfortably large bedroom. It was orderly, it was clean, and she had yet to leave it though an entire day had passed. She had not bothered to open her little flower shop the day before. Lifting her eyes to the mirror on the dressing table before her, Vy took in her appearance. As the state of her mind had begun affecting the trappings of her life, it had already lain into her appearance. Her eyes were red, from the crying she had done and was still doing. Normally neat and perfectly styled after the latest local fashions, her short brown hair was in tangled disarray. It looked as if, though she was not entirely certain, she had lost weight. That was something that her already slight frame could scarcely afford.
From the beginning, she had known that her 'relationship' with Geran was a short-term affair. That had been her intention. A fling with the king, she had thought, would be a new and fun experience. In the beginning, Vy had not even found him to be very attractive. He was too big, too bulky. Though there was little to any fat on his body, at least not that she had ever found, his sheer, overall size had made her look smaller than she liked to. On top of that, he wore a beard. Why would anyone ever want a beard? There was something about him, though. She had quickly discovered that he was smarter than she had expected. A conversation with him could be captivating in a way that she rarely experienced with men. He was different in other ways, too. Inside of him was this great well of warmth that she had encountered. It had reached down, deep into her heart, passing through all the ice, the walls, and the locked doors that served as her defenses against... well, everyone. That was the worst part. Vy had fallen in love with the man, and even though she had known that they had both expected a temporary affair, even though she had known that she had been steadily losing him for weeks, she had never spoken up. She had never uttered so much as a syllable that would even begin to imply her true feelings. Finally, he was gone, moved on, and there was no one that she could blame but herself.
Movement in the mirror behind her caught her eye. It was strange, how there seemed to be a person behind her, standing over her chair, so long as she did not look directly at him. When she did that, she could see that she was still alone. However, should she look away again, she could still see him. It must be a trick of the light, she decided after the briefest of contemplations. From the wrong, obscured angle, the candles and textures of the room behind her merged to form a man-like shape, and her over-active imagination filled in the details. A half-smile tugged at Vy's lips. Of course it was a man that her mind had made up, and of course he was nude, with strange body art covering the majority of his exposed flesh. Oh yes, and blond hair. Perhaps her grief was playing a role in this illusion as well. Such a man was much more her type, on the surface, than Geran had ever been.
Her eyes fell again, and focused on the pink flower on the right side of the table. There was nothing special about it. It was both indigenous to the area and common. Hundreds of them would cover the hills at the base of the mountains, where flatlands rolled forth and spread outward from the mouth of Gateway's first wall. Being who she was, Vy could have grown a hundred herself, even in the dead of winter, at virtually no expense. This flower, however, had come to her several months ago, when she and Geran had gone for a walk together. This had been significant because, first, she had just begun to accept her feelings for him and, second, because although he was known for his 'conquests,' he was rarely seen with them in public. How high her hopes had been that day! As they made their way back to her home, he had plucked this particular flower from a patch of grass that had begun to grow in the space left by a building that had been demolished ruing the Great Battle. With deft fingers, he had tucked it into her hair, caressed her face, and favored her with one of the most dazzling smiles she had ever seen. She had kept the flower, putting it in water after he had left her house the next morning. Ever since, she had used every bit of her considerable talent to maintain the flower, and hence the memory, but it was finally beginning to wilt. This brought new tears to her already wet eyes.
The imaginary man in the mirror moved, causing Vy to stiffen in her seat. Still, he was not there when she set her eyes directly upon him. Still, he leaned forward, close, placing his clawed hands on the ornate back of the chair in which she sat. She was beginning to panic. What sort of devilry was this? Was she going mad?
"He did this to you." The thing-- she was certain, upon hearing its darkly textured voice that it was more a 'thing' than a 'man'-- whispered to her.
"He did exactly as I expected." Vy said evenly. Perhaps her imagination was still playing tricks on her. Though the creature was almost visible, though she could hear it, her voice still sounded startlingly real, as if she had been sitting in silence before interrupting it herself. "We were never meant to be... more."
"You wanted more," came the eerily soft reply. This thing, whatever it was, figment or reality, was enjoying this. "He knew it."
Panic, again, threatened to overtake her. The idea that Geran had discerned how she felt, and that that was why he had moved on, had occurred to her more than once. Remembering the warmth within him, however, Vy had to believe that he would have spoken to her about it if that were the case. She had to believe in him, she insisted to herself. "He couldn't have. I never spoke up about it."
"He knew." Laughter lurked just beneath the surface of the imaginary creature's not-quite-real voice. "And he used it to use you. To ensure your compliance with his... perversity."
"No!" She was becoming angry. Whether that anger was to be directed at the speaker or the idea it had presented, she was not certain.
"It's true." It leaned closer. Its presence pressed firmly against her back, almost as real as a physical touch. When it spoke again, its voice sounded thicker than before, more real. Its breath brushed her ear causing her blood to run cold. For a figment of her imagination, this was becoming frighteningly real. "He did that, he did everything."
"And you let him."
"I--" Vy could not quite find her voice. Looking back, there were a great number of things that she and Geran had done together, in private, that had been very interesting. Having been not exactly inexperienced herself, she had been impressed by his ingenuity and the entire world of possibilities he had opened up for her. Suddenly, those things seemed somehow horrible and sordid. What was wrong with her? Sniffling and flushed with embarrassment, she concluded her statement lamely. "We did nothing I did not desire at the time."
"How heartless he is." The thing, no, the Monster behind her murmured, doing its best impression of sympathy. As filthy, vile, and hateful as it seemed, she could not bring herself to stop listening. She still believed it to be, mostly, a figment of her imagination. If it was that, then, whatever it had to say must be coming from within her. If these were her thoughts, or the thoughts of some deeply hidden part of herself that she was not quite in touch with, then she needed to hear them, did she not? "It is his nature, you know. It is what they do."
"Who?"
"Dryads."
Vy had no answer for this. She, along with most of the rest of the city, had heard Geran's announcement concerning his heritage. Several days had passed since then, and she had yet to determine exactly how she felt about that. In her homeland, where dryads were known of only in the sense that they were a problem that existed half a continent away, they were still not considered a proper topic of conversation in polite company. Beyond the occasional comment she had overheard, and the brief explanation of what they were that her mother had given her when she had been a curious child, Vy had never given any real thought or consideration to dryads. Now, in this moment, she wished that she had researched them at some point, for some reason, so that she might have something to say back to this hateful manifestation.
"He is so cruel..."
"No." The florist shook her head. Whatever was going on, whatever her personal hang-ups were, Vy could not yet bring herself to tolerate this monster's continued assault on Geran's persona. "He is warm and... and caring. Whatever else, he is a good man!"
"He seduced you."
"I let him."
"Yessss..." The creature at her back hissed, it's voiced filled with mirth. It was mocking her. She could feel it. Snatching up a book that she had been reading from its resting place on the left side of her dressing table, she brought it up and used it to smite the hateful visage in the mirror. Again, she struck, and again, until not a shard of glass was left standing.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Vy cried. Then, her rage spent, she allowed herself to slump back into her cushioned chair. Her book slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor. Raising her hands, she gazed at the blood that flowed from the cuts she had received where her hands had come into contact with the mirror. She did not remember that happening. Leaning forward, unmindful of the shards that covered her table, or the stinging pain in her right elbow that told her that she had found the edge of one of them, Vy buried her face in her bleeding hands and allowed herself to cry in earnest.
"Just shut up."
I've added music from the bands Fidget and All the Hellbound to the Hideaway Radio station (http://s3.myradiostream.com/26118.htm ), as well as a song from the Tearaways.