Broken Hearts
By Myself and queenthespade
Characters used: Cheyne, Stella, Talitha, and Fantine.
It wasn’t the first night a tavern owner patted the dark skinned elf out the door of his establishment. Even as this one threw him out over the threshold yelling curses against him, threatening him should he return, it did not strike him as new. Through loose, silver hair, his icy blue glare raised no fear in the human either. Passersby avoided him as he sat there, palms of his hands scuffed and raw from catching his fall on the cobblestone. The door, no, the tavern itself stood as she had, her words ringing in his ears. It sang through his mind like a blade across his flesh. That woman, beautiful and enticing as she was, had never been what he had really wanted.
His heart ached as he shoved himself to his feet. His usually angelic tresses were grayed with lack of care. White shirt stained with a bit of blood from a forgotten bar fight, pants dirty, his whole body rank with drunken sweat. Cheyne appeared a monster in comparison to his usual clean, crisp self. Instead of straightening to walk through the crowd like a ghost, he shoved his way through. Pushing aside the humans who had more and more of late looked upon him with scorn and fear.
Was it his demeanor? No, he knew it wasn’t but he cared not. His ebon skin frightened them. Not the deep, russet brown of even the darkest human, Cheyne was an oddity. Though, not a singularity. Gradually over the last few weeks there had been more fear and disgust towards anyone who wasn’t human, it seemed. And his eyes pulled the most fear out of them. Icy blue, red irises making them look even more striking. Still, his coin was good and though he drank alone, he was still allowed in the taverns he had not already been thrown out of.
Stumbling through the streets, they all became a haze. His feet following a well known path as he made his way home. There he would begin again in earnest. Drinking her face away, he hoped. He hadn’t gone to see her in so long, certainly not since Kimera and he had fought. In fact, he had gone to see no one, wallowing in his own pain.
He found the door, and set his hand upon the knob. Like a knife to his heart, he felt the stinging guilt in his abandonment of her. Remembering her face long before now, when they had first met. Her soft hair, her perfect smile, her eyes. It yanked a sob from him, and he spun violently around, vomiting as hot tears stung his eyes.
A hand, as dark-skinned as his own rested on his shoulder as he heaved out the contents of his stomach. "You smell terrible. And you look worse." Stella's own eyes, much like his with their red within ice blue, narrowed as she watched him. She was dressed this night, as with most other times, head to toe in black. Though apparently she wasn't expecting much in the way of trouble, as she'd forgone her hardened leather armor and wore a simple black linen tunic, close-fitting vest and durable trousers. A warm cloak draped her shoulders, guarding her against the cold and she pulled it a bit tighter as a sharp wind whistled through the streets.
Clearing his throat, he spat before speaking. “You’d look this way if your heart felt s’mine, Stella.” Getting to his feet, he swayed and fell into her capable arms, tears still streaking down his ebon cheeks. He was on his feet and away from her in a moment, and opening his door. The wine inside calling him in to forget those moss-green eyes in their pale face. “You may’s well come inside.” It was a simple invitation, almost crass. His voice held no tone.
The room itself was but a mangled cot as well as a similar table and two chairs. The floor was covered with empty bottles, cast about with dead flower petals. He left the old door open, and moved to slump into his chair. The wood creaked as he rested into it with a sigh, reaching for the bottle nearest him, long left uncorked. He pulled from it deeply, the deep red liquid mingling with the tears on his stubbled chin. His head fell back, hair falling away from his face as he stared up at the ceiling. Her face still burned into his vision as it had been since the first day he saw her. The now empty bottle clattered to the floor.
While her brother continued to drink himself even deeper into his stupor, Stella took in her surroundings, her nose wrinkling at the overall stale smell of the place. When another sharp breeze reminded her that the door was still standing ajar, and he'd no intention of shutting it, she did so herself, having to wrestle with it a bit before getting it to settle into it's place. One of the hinges seemed to be bent, as if at one point in time it had been forced open. "Hmph. Nice place Cheyne. I'd wondered where you'd been keeping yourself." She wandered around the room, nudging aside bottles and discarded clothing. "You know... this really isn't going to help."
He recalled a time, seemingly eons past, when a small child barely to his waist called him brother. And now she spoke to him like a detached friend. As if blood did not bind them. If there was care in her voice, he did not perceive it. Instead, he heard Kimera’s tone, spiteful and proud. “There is nothing to help me,” he snapped his retort. Sitting up as straight as he could to find another bottle. “You wouldn’t understand.”
"No." Her tone was cold, but something lay under the surface, a slight rippling, the barest hint of the anger which roiled within her. "I don't understand." Her back was to him as she stood staring at the ashes in the cold fireplace. "I don't understand how the brother I once knew, the brother who defied our mother, who left our world, who found the courage to make a life for himself on this surface realm... who told me that he'd found happiness, and would not have taken back his actions... how that brother has become you." He couldn't see her trembling ever so slightly as she fought to keep her emotions under control, or the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes, but which she kept blinking back.
Staggering to his feet, he uncorked another bottle and took a fresh swig. “Perhaps if you had walked alongside me as I had left you would understand. But you see, I was cast out when I defied that evil woman you still call mother. I was cast out and told if I returned the only sweet thing I cared for would be tortured alongside me to death. I couldn’t take you with me. I had no courage when I left, I found it. Happiness took my hand and led me to what I was when we were reunited. And then I lost that. I don’t know, My Starlight, if you had ever known a love that took you so completely you felt your heart would burst from joy. I found that in a woman, and I have lost her.” He turned away from her, his eyes dry now, his voice cold. “There is nothing left for me.”
She was quiet for a while, mulling over his words. "No... I haven't known that kind of love. The only people I've ever loved are you and Luna, before I realized what she really was. Now, there's only you. My brother the stranger." She turned her back to the fireplace to face him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "I wanted to get to know you again. But, it seems you have too many other things on your mind. I would ask you to think on something though. Why remain in a place where, as you say, there is nothing left for you?" She began to head toward the door.
“Wait.” He reached for her, eyes pleading as he his hand splayed open for her. “Please Stella. I beg you. Forgive me for leaving you behind. I wanted so to return and take you from there. But I could not run from that place with you in my hands, knowing I had doomed you should we have ever been caught.” Shame filled his eyes, and his voice cracked with emotion. “The only reason I still live, is because My Star shines in Gateway. I just…” He heaved a sigh, his hand dropping as he looked away. “I could not bear to have you see me this way, so I came here, outside the Proper where I would hopefully not be found.” A dismal, dark chuckle bled from his lips. “I cannot believe I thought nothing of your ability to locate even the smallest thing. Of course you would find me, you and I are the only of our kind here.”
Setting the bottle at the table, he leaned heavily upon it. His ebon hand gripping the neck tight as his other rested flat upon the rough wood. “This place is not meant for our kind, and the one I love… her heart belongs to another. I should leave this place, it becomes ever more hostile to those who are not human. But I refuse to leave you behind again…”
She stared at him for what seemed a very long time, at least to her. His words hung in the air between them, almost tangible. Memories long pushed aside, flooded back to her. Herself, barely seven years old, laughing as she chased her big brother through the halls of the Great House. She and Luna quarreling over something or other and her brother shushing them and patiently sorting out the problem. Him interceding on her behalf to their mother, urging the woman to let her train as a melee fighter. The sparring between them as he taught her the sword. Him hugging her tightly, telling her he was leaving. Herself crying, begging him to take her with him. Him telling her that it wasn't safe, that she would slow him down. Weeping. A vow she'd made to herself, to become the best. The best there ever was. To show him someday what she could do, what she was capable of. All these things flashed through her mind, then, in two strides she'd crossed the floor to stand near him, heedless now of the tears which streaked down her ebon cheeks. Her hand fell upon his, as he turned to meet her gaze. "Let's leave. Tonight. I'll pack my things, and we can be gone from this place before daybreak. There has to be something else out there. More than this," as she gestured at the despicable heap he'd made his residence. "I told you then, when I asked you if you'd found happiness, and you'd told me you had, that it was something worth fighting for." Reaching out she grasped his shoulders tightly. "It is worth fighting for, it's worth searching for. There is nothing for me here either. Your companions are good people, but they are not what either of us need. We need to go out there and find our happiness!"
Not even a moment passed, his hand slipped from the bottle, and he pulled her close to him. Foul smell and all, his embrace had never changed for her. It was his own form of agreement. “I will meet you at the main gates an hour before dawn.” What was the need for thought, it seemed to him he had been waiting for her to say such things. Pulling back, it was as if he had instantly sobered. And he smiled at her, though the weariness held in his eyes. “I’ll pack my things, and meet you at the main gate before dawn.” Repeating himself, he turned from her, and opened the door, glancing back at her with a smile.
She felt a smile spreading over her face, and she made no effort to quell it. This was what she had been waiting for since she was a child. "I'll be there." She went to the door and paused briefly at the threshold. "Until then." She slipped into the night, drawing her hood well over her head and nearly vanishing from sight.
***
It had not taken him nearly as long to pack and bathe as he thought. But there were items he’d found that he had held for Talitha on their travels. He refused to take something of her, knowing the thought of her would drive him mad. It led his boots once he was done, leaving his main rooms without a backward glance. He set the small parcel of items in front of the door before lifting his hand. The knock upon their door came late in the night, his heart slamming in his chest, praying that she would answer the door. He had no words for Kurik, though he considered him a brother in more than arms.
Yawning, Talitha opened the door, dressed in a long linen shift and holding a candlestick in one hand and what seemed to be a fire-iron in the other. Seeing that it was Cheyne though, she smiled in greeting. "Hello Cheyne." Her brows furrowed momentarily. "Is something wrong?"
Pulling her close, Cheyne surrounded the woman similar in height to himself with his arms. Holding her tightly for only a few moments he whispered to her. He then moved back, holding her at an arms length, gently squeezing her sleeves with his ebon hands. His smile was strong, but his eyes weakened and weary. Turning on his boot heel, pack on his back, he strode from her. Feeling that his soft spoken words were enough for his goodbye. With a swish of his leather cloak he was gone.
Talitha stood there silent for a long while, staring after his departing figure. After a bit she noticed the parcel on the floor, and absently stooped to pick it up. Quietly she closed the door and extinguished her candle before returning to the bed where Kurik was snoring away. But she lay awake for hours after that, unable to sleep.
***
His rode his horse with an easy stride, the white mare was eager to take to the road. Coming alongside his sister, he handed her the reigns of a black steed, massive in comparison to the mare her brother rode. A white, four pointed star graced his forehead. “His name is Rheorix.” With a motion of his chin, he glanced behind him. Rhian stood some distance back, and gave them a wave, a sad smile upon his face. The general already held letters in hand from Stella. But the horse was her own surprise for the woman, when he had returned without Fantine, a small note tucked in the saddle had named Stella as his next owner.
Once Stella was well prepared, he smiled back at Rhian, and gave him a nod of thanks, which he returned it in kind. Turning a playful, bright smile to Stella Cheyne spurred his horse, and was off like a shot, leaving Gateway, and his words to Talitha behind him. Stella didn’t even need to urge Rheorix on, he took to the road naturally, and the pair was soon nothing but dust.
“Tell Kurik I am sorry. I have always loved you Talitha.”
Characters used: Cheyne, Stella, Talitha, and Fantine.
It wasn’t the first night a tavern owner patted the dark skinned elf out the door of his establishment. Even as this one threw him out over the threshold yelling curses against him, threatening him should he return, it did not strike him as new. Through loose, silver hair, his icy blue glare raised no fear in the human either. Passersby avoided him as he sat there, palms of his hands scuffed and raw from catching his fall on the cobblestone. The door, no, the tavern itself stood as she had, her words ringing in his ears. It sang through his mind like a blade across his flesh. That woman, beautiful and enticing as she was, had never been what he had really wanted.
His heart ached as he shoved himself to his feet. His usually angelic tresses were grayed with lack of care. White shirt stained with a bit of blood from a forgotten bar fight, pants dirty, his whole body rank with drunken sweat. Cheyne appeared a monster in comparison to his usual clean, crisp self. Instead of straightening to walk through the crowd like a ghost, he shoved his way through. Pushing aside the humans who had more and more of late looked upon him with scorn and fear.
Was it his demeanor? No, he knew it wasn’t but he cared not. His ebon skin frightened them. Not the deep, russet brown of even the darkest human, Cheyne was an oddity. Though, not a singularity. Gradually over the last few weeks there had been more fear and disgust towards anyone who wasn’t human, it seemed. And his eyes pulled the most fear out of them. Icy blue, red irises making them look even more striking. Still, his coin was good and though he drank alone, he was still allowed in the taverns he had not already been thrown out of.
Stumbling through the streets, they all became a haze. His feet following a well known path as he made his way home. There he would begin again in earnest. Drinking her face away, he hoped. He hadn’t gone to see her in so long, certainly not since Kimera and he had fought. In fact, he had gone to see no one, wallowing in his own pain.
He found the door, and set his hand upon the knob. Like a knife to his heart, he felt the stinging guilt in his abandonment of her. Remembering her face long before now, when they had first met. Her soft hair, her perfect smile, her eyes. It yanked a sob from him, and he spun violently around, vomiting as hot tears stung his eyes.
A hand, as dark-skinned as his own rested on his shoulder as he heaved out the contents of his stomach. "You smell terrible. And you look worse." Stella's own eyes, much like his with their red within ice blue, narrowed as she watched him. She was dressed this night, as with most other times, head to toe in black. Though apparently she wasn't expecting much in the way of trouble, as she'd forgone her hardened leather armor and wore a simple black linen tunic, close-fitting vest and durable trousers. A warm cloak draped her shoulders, guarding her against the cold and she pulled it a bit tighter as a sharp wind whistled through the streets.
Clearing his throat, he spat before speaking. “You’d look this way if your heart felt s’mine, Stella.” Getting to his feet, he swayed and fell into her capable arms, tears still streaking down his ebon cheeks. He was on his feet and away from her in a moment, and opening his door. The wine inside calling him in to forget those moss-green eyes in their pale face. “You may’s well come inside.” It was a simple invitation, almost crass. His voice held no tone.
The room itself was but a mangled cot as well as a similar table and two chairs. The floor was covered with empty bottles, cast about with dead flower petals. He left the old door open, and moved to slump into his chair. The wood creaked as he rested into it with a sigh, reaching for the bottle nearest him, long left uncorked. He pulled from it deeply, the deep red liquid mingling with the tears on his stubbled chin. His head fell back, hair falling away from his face as he stared up at the ceiling. Her face still burned into his vision as it had been since the first day he saw her. The now empty bottle clattered to the floor.
While her brother continued to drink himself even deeper into his stupor, Stella took in her surroundings, her nose wrinkling at the overall stale smell of the place. When another sharp breeze reminded her that the door was still standing ajar, and he'd no intention of shutting it, she did so herself, having to wrestle with it a bit before getting it to settle into it's place. One of the hinges seemed to be bent, as if at one point in time it had been forced open. "Hmph. Nice place Cheyne. I'd wondered where you'd been keeping yourself." She wandered around the room, nudging aside bottles and discarded clothing. "You know... this really isn't going to help."
He recalled a time, seemingly eons past, when a small child barely to his waist called him brother. And now she spoke to him like a detached friend. As if blood did not bind them. If there was care in her voice, he did not perceive it. Instead, he heard Kimera’s tone, spiteful and proud. “There is nothing to help me,” he snapped his retort. Sitting up as straight as he could to find another bottle. “You wouldn’t understand.”
"No." Her tone was cold, but something lay under the surface, a slight rippling, the barest hint of the anger which roiled within her. "I don't understand." Her back was to him as she stood staring at the ashes in the cold fireplace. "I don't understand how the brother I once knew, the brother who defied our mother, who left our world, who found the courage to make a life for himself on this surface realm... who told me that he'd found happiness, and would not have taken back his actions... how that brother has become you." He couldn't see her trembling ever so slightly as she fought to keep her emotions under control, or the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes, but which she kept blinking back.
Staggering to his feet, he uncorked another bottle and took a fresh swig. “Perhaps if you had walked alongside me as I had left you would understand. But you see, I was cast out when I defied that evil woman you still call mother. I was cast out and told if I returned the only sweet thing I cared for would be tortured alongside me to death. I couldn’t take you with me. I had no courage when I left, I found it. Happiness took my hand and led me to what I was when we were reunited. And then I lost that. I don’t know, My Starlight, if you had ever known a love that took you so completely you felt your heart would burst from joy. I found that in a woman, and I have lost her.” He turned away from her, his eyes dry now, his voice cold. “There is nothing left for me.”
She was quiet for a while, mulling over his words. "No... I haven't known that kind of love. The only people I've ever loved are you and Luna, before I realized what she really was. Now, there's only you. My brother the stranger." She turned her back to the fireplace to face him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "I wanted to get to know you again. But, it seems you have too many other things on your mind. I would ask you to think on something though. Why remain in a place where, as you say, there is nothing left for you?" She began to head toward the door.
“Wait.” He reached for her, eyes pleading as he his hand splayed open for her. “Please Stella. I beg you. Forgive me for leaving you behind. I wanted so to return and take you from there. But I could not run from that place with you in my hands, knowing I had doomed you should we have ever been caught.” Shame filled his eyes, and his voice cracked with emotion. “The only reason I still live, is because My Star shines in Gateway. I just…” He heaved a sigh, his hand dropping as he looked away. “I could not bear to have you see me this way, so I came here, outside the Proper where I would hopefully not be found.” A dismal, dark chuckle bled from his lips. “I cannot believe I thought nothing of your ability to locate even the smallest thing. Of course you would find me, you and I are the only of our kind here.”
Setting the bottle at the table, he leaned heavily upon it. His ebon hand gripping the neck tight as his other rested flat upon the rough wood. “This place is not meant for our kind, and the one I love… her heart belongs to another. I should leave this place, it becomes ever more hostile to those who are not human. But I refuse to leave you behind again…”
She stared at him for what seemed a very long time, at least to her. His words hung in the air between them, almost tangible. Memories long pushed aside, flooded back to her. Herself, barely seven years old, laughing as she chased her big brother through the halls of the Great House. She and Luna quarreling over something or other and her brother shushing them and patiently sorting out the problem. Him interceding on her behalf to their mother, urging the woman to let her train as a melee fighter. The sparring between them as he taught her the sword. Him hugging her tightly, telling her he was leaving. Herself crying, begging him to take her with him. Him telling her that it wasn't safe, that she would slow him down. Weeping. A vow she'd made to herself, to become the best. The best there ever was. To show him someday what she could do, what she was capable of. All these things flashed through her mind, then, in two strides she'd crossed the floor to stand near him, heedless now of the tears which streaked down her ebon cheeks. Her hand fell upon his, as he turned to meet her gaze. "Let's leave. Tonight. I'll pack my things, and we can be gone from this place before daybreak. There has to be something else out there. More than this," as she gestured at the despicable heap he'd made his residence. "I told you then, when I asked you if you'd found happiness, and you'd told me you had, that it was something worth fighting for." Reaching out she grasped his shoulders tightly. "It is worth fighting for, it's worth searching for. There is nothing for me here either. Your companions are good people, but they are not what either of us need. We need to go out there and find our happiness!"
Not even a moment passed, his hand slipped from the bottle, and he pulled her close to him. Foul smell and all, his embrace had never changed for her. It was his own form of agreement. “I will meet you at the main gates an hour before dawn.” What was the need for thought, it seemed to him he had been waiting for her to say such things. Pulling back, it was as if he had instantly sobered. And he smiled at her, though the weariness held in his eyes. “I’ll pack my things, and meet you at the main gate before dawn.” Repeating himself, he turned from her, and opened the door, glancing back at her with a smile.
She felt a smile spreading over her face, and she made no effort to quell it. This was what she had been waiting for since she was a child. "I'll be there." She went to the door and paused briefly at the threshold. "Until then." She slipped into the night, drawing her hood well over her head and nearly vanishing from sight.
***
It had not taken him nearly as long to pack and bathe as he thought. But there were items he’d found that he had held for Talitha on their travels. He refused to take something of her, knowing the thought of her would drive him mad. It led his boots once he was done, leaving his main rooms without a backward glance. He set the small parcel of items in front of the door before lifting his hand. The knock upon their door came late in the night, his heart slamming in his chest, praying that she would answer the door. He had no words for Kurik, though he considered him a brother in more than arms.
Yawning, Talitha opened the door, dressed in a long linen shift and holding a candlestick in one hand and what seemed to be a fire-iron in the other. Seeing that it was Cheyne though, she smiled in greeting. "Hello Cheyne." Her brows furrowed momentarily. "Is something wrong?"
Pulling her close, Cheyne surrounded the woman similar in height to himself with his arms. Holding her tightly for only a few moments he whispered to her. He then moved back, holding her at an arms length, gently squeezing her sleeves with his ebon hands. His smile was strong, but his eyes weakened and weary. Turning on his boot heel, pack on his back, he strode from her. Feeling that his soft spoken words were enough for his goodbye. With a swish of his leather cloak he was gone.
Talitha stood there silent for a long while, staring after his departing figure. After a bit she noticed the parcel on the floor, and absently stooped to pick it up. Quietly she closed the door and extinguished her candle before returning to the bed where Kurik was snoring away. But she lay awake for hours after that, unable to sleep.
***
His rode his horse with an easy stride, the white mare was eager to take to the road. Coming alongside his sister, he handed her the reigns of a black steed, massive in comparison to the mare her brother rode. A white, four pointed star graced his forehead. “His name is Rheorix.” With a motion of his chin, he glanced behind him. Rhian stood some distance back, and gave them a wave, a sad smile upon his face. The general already held letters in hand from Stella. But the horse was her own surprise for the woman, when he had returned without Fantine, a small note tucked in the saddle had named Stella as his next owner.
Once Stella was well prepared, he smiled back at Rhian, and gave him a nod of thanks, which he returned it in kind. Turning a playful, bright smile to Stella Cheyne spurred his horse, and was off like a shot, leaving Gateway, and his words to Talitha behind him. Stella didn’t even need to urge Rheorix on, he took to the road naturally, and the pair was soon nothing but dust.
“Tell Kurik I am sorry. I have always loved you Talitha.”