Keth'ym Evanara - Unwanted Favor
Posted: Wed Jan 06, 2021 5:14 pm
Slender fingers danced along silver harpstrings, sending the trilling melody soaring up to its climax before whirling down to be at rest in the echoing chamber. The soft thrum eventually faded away into silence that lasted for mere heartbeats before it was broken up by the muted clap of two gloved hands coming together.
“That will do for this night,” the sun elf woman said approvingly, her fingers clasping together after the single strike of applause. “There will be some more preparations to do. See to it that you at least arrive on time, and,” Her murky green eyes narrowed briefly, accompanied by the downturn of her lips. “-for sake of us all, do something about that ridiculous glitter in your hair. There have been comments.”
“I cannot help it, Mother,” the young elf sitting across from her offered in apologetic murmur. “When I go to see Calypso-”
A single flaxen brow arched, striking him into silence. After allowing the quiet to stretch uncomfortably long, she finally shook her head in a controlled subtle motion. “You have more important matters to tend to than frittering your time away catering to the whims of the Fairest Folk.”
Similarities between the two were uncommon. Though sharing in height and frail build, and despite the fact that sharpness of cheekbones and delicate point of the chin were identical- few would name the younger as his mother’s son at first glance. She bore every sign of typical gold elven nobility, in her smooth bronze of her skin, to the flaxen hair just bordering on auburn. The only abnormality was the grey marring what could have been true emerald of her eyes. But few ever had the chance to draw near enough to see it in that unforgiving gaze.
“I have been keeping up with my studies,” he protested, chin lifting with plaintive pride despite his next words. “Cantrips still fail me, but tis not because of my time spent free.”
Thin lips flatten even further as she contemplated her son. He cut a striking figure with his paler complexion- embarrassingly enough to be mistaken for a moon elf -and free-flowing black hair. The grey holds even more sway in his eyes than her own, the emerald disappointingly all but vanished. And of course, the subtle glimmer of sapphire dust in his hair that shone forth whenever he moved…
Her lips part, a soft huff of irritation released that has immediate effect. His eyes lower, expression stiffening.
“I will do better, Mother,” he assented. “Time spent with Calypso will be less.”
That draws a smile forth from her and softened gaze. “You’re too important to be capering around like a grey elf, Keth’ym. The Father knows, we’re destined for something more than that, at the very least. I will instruct Shandalar on a different method for your studies.”
Grey eyes brighten at the smile, and he bows his head to her. “You could not have found me a better tutor, lest you taught me yourself.”
“So long as you actually make it to your studies,” she counters with a warning note. “Curbing your time with the pixie alone shan’t fix all. You should be spending your days with others of the proper bloodlines, not taking our stablehands out on rides-“
“Twas a lesson as well!”
“-distracting guards from their duties-“
He frowned then and fell silent, chastised.
“-indulging in uncouth literature…” She sighs yet again. “I do not understand this fixation with the lives of commoners.”
“I will do better, Mother,” he said again, quieter.
A tap on the door called for the attention of both, heads turned in an identical movement as it opened to reveal a leather-clad wood elf.
“Lady Koraias,” he spoke with a bow of his head. “Throwyn begs your attention in the library.”
“Thank you.” She rose from the couch. Her eyes trailed back to rest on Keth’ym. “Go to your tasks,” she said simply, before sweeping out of the room.
The young elf remained seated, his hands moving to dully pluck at the harp for some beats before he lowered them and stood himself. His shirt was wrinkled, so he took his time to smooth it and adjust his sleeves, so the cuffs were turned properly. The sigil at his collar, he ensured was securely fixed in place before heading for the door.
However, contrary to his mother’s words, he did not remain in the holdings of their House. His quick steps took him out a door, down steps, and across lush fields. The outskirts of the city were not far, and when on horseback, he hardly noticed the passage of time before he was in the comforting silence of the forest. And further still he rode, crossing a familiar stream and following it until he could come to a halt in the glade surrounding a pond.
“Calypso!” Keth’ym called, hands lowering to rest on his horse’s neck. He leaned forward, dismounting and leaving the steed to stand freely. “Are you here?”
It seemed not.
With a sigh, he paced forward to the edge of the water, peering over it. And unsurprisingly, his own face reflected back up at him.
“Is this what I have to look forward to for the next century?” he asked his reflection. “An eternal dance of etiquette that is my only use?”
A breath of wind stirred the water enough that his own face disappeared from it. With a frown, Keth’ym looked up and around. His eyes fixed on a point across the glade- something there that drew his attention. And then him. He crossed around the pond, some urge drawing his steps.
He had only rarely ventured out past the glade, and the unfamiliar trees loomed with no hint of where he was going. But the young elf’s steps did not pause; he moved even swifter, the weight of some urgency furrowing his brow. Lips parted with the beginnings of frantic breaths. Wind blew against him- not strong enough to slow his travel but whirling around and past.
“Calypso?” he called out, some hope that this was just another prank of the fey.
No, came an answer, carried on the wind.
With a grit of his teeth, the elf tried to halt… but something in his chest wrenched with a feeling of abject wrongness that he could do nothing but stumble forward yet again.
No, breathed the wind once more.
A sound cried out in the distance. As if banished by the voice, the wind dissipated. But the tug remained, and so the elf continued forward until his boots touched the worn dirt of a path well-traveled. He finally halted, gazing down at the moon elf laying there with her horse grazing nearby- not a moonhorse, but a common-bred thing.
Relief shined clear on her face at the sight of Keth’ym, though he winced at noticing her badly broken leg, blood seeping through her leather trousers.
Help her, sang the wind.
“Cousin,” the elf gasped out. “Thank the Father you heard me! I need to return to Leuthilspar.”
“O-of course,” he stammered out, gingerly moving forward. “What can I-“
Help her.
“I am helping,” Keth’ym snapped to himself, shake of his head as he reached out to clasp her hand. His exclamation went unnoticed by the other elf, her face gone wan with the pain.
But as their hands touched-
Wind strengthened around the two, a sudden gust of warmth that caressed the wounded elf and blew loud in their ears. Keth’ym’s eyes watered and he squeezed them shut, ducking his head against the onslaught of air.
And then, it was gone.
He blinked once… and then once again, staring at the still bloodstained but suddenly whole leg. His hand, stiff and cold, withdrew from the other elf’s and he straightened fully, shock fixing his face into a mask as he stared at his palms.
Good, came the approving whisper as a breeze picked up around him once again.
“My deepest thanks, cousin,” the moon elf began, but her words trailed off as Keth’ym stumbled away and back into the forest.
Tears of joy pricked his eyes, the lightness of his heart summoning a smile of delight to his face. After all these years! All these disappointments! He wasn’t forgotten- he wasn’t unwanted. So many prayers had finally been heard.
“Father,” he murmured, “Father- is this truly what you wish of me? I- I will carry on your blessings! Father, truly, I thank yo-”
No, the wind rebuked him gently.
His steps slowed, something catching in his throat.
“Father?” Keth’ym tried again.
No.
“Who-“ he swallowed hard past the tightness in his chest, those tears of joy turning cold and threatening to spill down his cheeks. “Who are you?”
Ride on the winds, traveler.
“That will do for this night,” the sun elf woman said approvingly, her fingers clasping together after the single strike of applause. “There will be some more preparations to do. See to it that you at least arrive on time, and,” Her murky green eyes narrowed briefly, accompanied by the downturn of her lips. “-for sake of us all, do something about that ridiculous glitter in your hair. There have been comments.”
“I cannot help it, Mother,” the young elf sitting across from her offered in apologetic murmur. “When I go to see Calypso-”
A single flaxen brow arched, striking him into silence. After allowing the quiet to stretch uncomfortably long, she finally shook her head in a controlled subtle motion. “You have more important matters to tend to than frittering your time away catering to the whims of the Fairest Folk.”
Similarities between the two were uncommon. Though sharing in height and frail build, and despite the fact that sharpness of cheekbones and delicate point of the chin were identical- few would name the younger as his mother’s son at first glance. She bore every sign of typical gold elven nobility, in her smooth bronze of her skin, to the flaxen hair just bordering on auburn. The only abnormality was the grey marring what could have been true emerald of her eyes. But few ever had the chance to draw near enough to see it in that unforgiving gaze.
“I have been keeping up with my studies,” he protested, chin lifting with plaintive pride despite his next words. “Cantrips still fail me, but tis not because of my time spent free.”
Thin lips flatten even further as she contemplated her son. He cut a striking figure with his paler complexion- embarrassingly enough to be mistaken for a moon elf -and free-flowing black hair. The grey holds even more sway in his eyes than her own, the emerald disappointingly all but vanished. And of course, the subtle glimmer of sapphire dust in his hair that shone forth whenever he moved…
Her lips part, a soft huff of irritation released that has immediate effect. His eyes lower, expression stiffening.
“I will do better, Mother,” he assented. “Time spent with Calypso will be less.”
That draws a smile forth from her and softened gaze. “You’re too important to be capering around like a grey elf, Keth’ym. The Father knows, we’re destined for something more than that, at the very least. I will instruct Shandalar on a different method for your studies.”
Grey eyes brighten at the smile, and he bows his head to her. “You could not have found me a better tutor, lest you taught me yourself.”
“So long as you actually make it to your studies,” she counters with a warning note. “Curbing your time with the pixie alone shan’t fix all. You should be spending your days with others of the proper bloodlines, not taking our stablehands out on rides-“
“Twas a lesson as well!”
“-distracting guards from their duties-“
He frowned then and fell silent, chastised.
“-indulging in uncouth literature…” She sighs yet again. “I do not understand this fixation with the lives of commoners.”
“I will do better, Mother,” he said again, quieter.
A tap on the door called for the attention of both, heads turned in an identical movement as it opened to reveal a leather-clad wood elf.
“Lady Koraias,” he spoke with a bow of his head. “Throwyn begs your attention in the library.”
“Thank you.” She rose from the couch. Her eyes trailed back to rest on Keth’ym. “Go to your tasks,” she said simply, before sweeping out of the room.
The young elf remained seated, his hands moving to dully pluck at the harp for some beats before he lowered them and stood himself. His shirt was wrinkled, so he took his time to smooth it and adjust his sleeves, so the cuffs were turned properly. The sigil at his collar, he ensured was securely fixed in place before heading for the door.
However, contrary to his mother’s words, he did not remain in the holdings of their House. His quick steps took him out a door, down steps, and across lush fields. The outskirts of the city were not far, and when on horseback, he hardly noticed the passage of time before he was in the comforting silence of the forest. And further still he rode, crossing a familiar stream and following it until he could come to a halt in the glade surrounding a pond.
“Calypso!” Keth’ym called, hands lowering to rest on his horse’s neck. He leaned forward, dismounting and leaving the steed to stand freely. “Are you here?”
It seemed not.
With a sigh, he paced forward to the edge of the water, peering over it. And unsurprisingly, his own face reflected back up at him.
“Is this what I have to look forward to for the next century?” he asked his reflection. “An eternal dance of etiquette that is my only use?”
A breath of wind stirred the water enough that his own face disappeared from it. With a frown, Keth’ym looked up and around. His eyes fixed on a point across the glade- something there that drew his attention. And then him. He crossed around the pond, some urge drawing his steps.
He had only rarely ventured out past the glade, and the unfamiliar trees loomed with no hint of where he was going. But the young elf’s steps did not pause; he moved even swifter, the weight of some urgency furrowing his brow. Lips parted with the beginnings of frantic breaths. Wind blew against him- not strong enough to slow his travel but whirling around and past.
“Calypso?” he called out, some hope that this was just another prank of the fey.
No, came an answer, carried on the wind.
With a grit of his teeth, the elf tried to halt… but something in his chest wrenched with a feeling of abject wrongness that he could do nothing but stumble forward yet again.
No, breathed the wind once more.
A sound cried out in the distance. As if banished by the voice, the wind dissipated. But the tug remained, and so the elf continued forward until his boots touched the worn dirt of a path well-traveled. He finally halted, gazing down at the moon elf laying there with her horse grazing nearby- not a moonhorse, but a common-bred thing.
Relief shined clear on her face at the sight of Keth’ym, though he winced at noticing her badly broken leg, blood seeping through her leather trousers.
Help her, sang the wind.
“Cousin,” the elf gasped out. “Thank the Father you heard me! I need to return to Leuthilspar.”
“O-of course,” he stammered out, gingerly moving forward. “What can I-“
Help her.
“I am helping,” Keth’ym snapped to himself, shake of his head as he reached out to clasp her hand. His exclamation went unnoticed by the other elf, her face gone wan with the pain.
But as their hands touched-
Wind strengthened around the two, a sudden gust of warmth that caressed the wounded elf and blew loud in their ears. Keth’ym’s eyes watered and he squeezed them shut, ducking his head against the onslaught of air.
And then, it was gone.
He blinked once… and then once again, staring at the still bloodstained but suddenly whole leg. His hand, stiff and cold, withdrew from the other elf’s and he straightened fully, shock fixing his face into a mask as he stared at his palms.
Good, came the approving whisper as a breeze picked up around him once again.
“My deepest thanks, cousin,” the moon elf began, but her words trailed off as Keth’ym stumbled away and back into the forest.
Tears of joy pricked his eyes, the lightness of his heart summoning a smile of delight to his face. After all these years! All these disappointments! He wasn’t forgotten- he wasn’t unwanted. So many prayers had finally been heard.
“Father,” he murmured, “Father- is this truly what you wish of me? I- I will carry on your blessings! Father, truly, I thank yo-”
No, the wind rebuked him gently.
His steps slowed, something catching in his throat.
“Father?” Keth’ym tried again.
No.
“Who-“ he swallowed hard past the tightness in his chest, those tears of joy turning cold and threatening to spill down his cheeks. “Who are you?”
Ride on the winds, traveler.