AbyssalRoadTrip
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Abyssal Road Trip - 204 - Music to my ears
🕑 Added 2022-06-07 23:27:24 +0000 UTCLivia’s PoV - Judge Po’s waiting area
Time is hard to measure here, with no shifting light and no apparent need to breathe. Those surrounding me don’t even blink, cough, or shift their weight, just staring off into the distance as if enraptured by something only they can see.
When the black desk re-appears with the same young man behind it, I’m glad to see even his grim expression. This time he has a look of frustration that seems more perplexed than annoyed.
His lips move, but no sounds come forth, and when he stops, instructions burst into my awareness with still no sound uttered. “You should proceed forward. When you reach the valley, climb a mountain and bring back a bloom.”
“Is that needed to see Judge Po?” I ask, not having heard anything about a trail from my teachers.
“No, it’s needed because reviewing your paperwork will take time. At present, you’re cluttering up where others arrive.”
“Which mountain?”
The clerk’s lips move silently, and when I prompt him to speak up, he raises a finger, and an invisible thread of Ki conveys the pressure of his finger against my lips. I suddenly hear his voice again, but only after several minutes of talking. “Whichever one calls to your heart.”
I want to rub my face in confusion when I hear nothing more. “I think a lot of what you said got left behind through the translation.”
The clerk just looks at me haughtily. “Might I suggest learning the tongue of civilisation?”
“I speak Celestial and several languages,” I protest, more to tease than expectation of allowance.
“You don’t speak the language the Shen use and here, that is all that matters.”
Sighing, I can only bow my head in acknowledgement and hurriedly ask a question before he can vanish. “The mountains. Are they all on the Celestial side of the Eastern Hells?”
“Perhaps.”
Without that, he vanishes and in the distance, through the grey mist, I see a dim light appear.
Ebusuku’s PoV - Laurelin - Gods’ War - 7th Day
Shadows cast by the branches overhead mottle the river’s surface into different shades of blue. It's a quiet place, with a strange rope setup hanging from a tree; material obviously created by Amdirlain.
At first no one had wanted to touch it, until Berry insisted that She would have liked it used. I hope it's not the last vestige we find of her.
Berry’s gaze stays fixed on my shirt, where a bulge flexes around to the left, and another extends to my right before it retreats. “I think that’s her head now.”
“If all you wanted to do was know which way she’s laying, you could have just asked,” I tease, wondering if mortals are as fascinated with watching unborn children fidget as celestials. “The second was an elbow, and she’s a wiggler today. I’ll be glad when she’s born, and I can be back in armour.”
“No, you won’t be back in armour that quick,” Echo declares, and I wonder when he became the expert. “You’ll likely have to breastfeed, making getting in and out of armour tiresome.”
“Plus, don’t mortals' breasts swell or something? Mirage talked to me a few times before the war about the weirdness of Mortal pregnancy; I wonder if any of that will happen to you,” adds Berry, the pair of them taking a swim right about now sounds like a plan.
“My armour changes size with me,” I retort and tap Sage’s notes. “Do you think either of you will get back on topic?”
“Erwarth and the others are getting things running smoothly. Aside from the things we’re sending through to them with Isa’s recruits, there isn’t much more we can do for...“
“Still can’t believe that worked,” grumbles Echo, but it's clear his words are more to hide his anxiety than actual disbelief. “She sings them into Human form, and they march through the barrier on the Gate like it’s not even there.”
“Still not on topic,” I mutter, turning the notes around and looking over the diagram again.
“Latest count?” asks Berry, ignoring my reminder of the problem that lies between us...
“Two regiments, but they’ve got a mix of experience,” Hook states. “I think we need to determine where we should-”
My slight headshake is enough to stop Hook. “We’re not drawing the line, the mortals need to do that. I’ve got a feeling that’s why they can get away with it.”
“Divine hunches?” asks Berry
Before I can reply, I catch a concerning movement inside me that has me directing my attention to my swelling stomach. “Don’t do that.”
The little girl growing inside me releases her grip on her umbilical cord and waves her hands excitedly through the fluids, as if it was all a game.
Berry jumps in surprise at my words, an apology spilling from her lips. “I’ll try not to—”
“Not anything you said; little miss was playing with her umbilical cord. I’m not sure, but it felt like a dangerous thing—she had such a grip on it.”
The smile I get from Echo is enough warning before his words. “Any chance of us getting back on topic?”
“Keep that up and I’ll send you to figure out how we can get the Jade Emperor to release my husband faster,” I mutter and find my hand rubbing where the little one is trying to push on my stomach again. Nothing she does hurts, but it feels bizarre.
“Master Cyrus said he’d try to assist,” Berry offers, and I can tell she’s trying to reassure me despite her uncertainty.
“So we need to get back on topic,” I state, giving Hook a look that he returns with a helpless shrug.“Has anyone figured out yet how we put this thing together?”
Hook confidently slips some pieces into place before lifting the centre section; the assembly looks correct according to Sage’s notes. The central cord supports a thin wooden lattice, which supports more threads holding carvings of tiny animals aloft. A breeze drifts lazily, fluttering across nearby grass and turning the assembly; that shifting movement is enough.
One animal drops when its cord comes loose, and the latticework bounces upon its release; that bounce is enough, sending a tiny flex through the structure that does the rest. By the time the last piece falls away, Hook only holds the cord joining the central cross-piece.
“This looks like a safety hazard.” Hook replies and the others fix him with a look.
Before the others have a chance, Berry swats him. “We’re never going to have this ready in time for the baby.”
Sage appears to hand me a wrapped bundle and eyes the remnants with amusement. “Having problems?”
“Your notes don’t work,” huffs Berry, giving Sage a pout.
“Schematics, and you missed taking some parts. The crafters have already delivered a cot and a finished version to your house, Ebusuku.”
“But we were getting this one ready,” protests Berry. “Aren’t we supposed to do the presents thing as well?”
Bringing forth a bag, Sage extends it to Berry. “Considering the results, perhaps leaving it to the crafters might be an idea.”
Berry fixes him with a flat look that fights fruitlessly against his smile. “That’s not fair; you still had some parts for it.”
“You were the one that snatched them up and left,” Sage teased. “Don’t go blaming me.”
* * *
My awkward proportions limit me in what I can do, and the risk to our growing daughter even more. Still, my belly doesn’t stop me from sitting in the sun and studying a grimoire—spell lists I’d put off for centuries finally getting some time dedicated to them. Turning a page, I catch whispers on the edge of my awareness.
Focusing, I realise why it’s drawn my attention. Farhad is speaking to a Wood Elf Priestess wearing Amdirlain’s symbol. Information comes spilling in with my focus, and I know he’s in the Taurë’s forest making enquiries about a midwife for me.
The Priestess has the typical dusky skin, with green hints usual for the Taurë or Wood Elf people. Her hair is a striking, vibrant crimson—a single solid colour—unlike the normal elven hair tone that typically shifts through a range or a blend of multiple hues. It's not just her hair tone that is unusual, but the curvaceous figure with her well-rounded bust and hips makes me almost doubt that she’s an Elf.
Elleth, I know her name, and then a swell of information rises through the link of her faith, the moment she says my name in protest at being unworthy to aid me. Not a pure Wood Elf but a child of a Dryad and Wood Elf; their union’s outcome strangely hadn’t resulted in a Dryad daughter. That had quickly become apparent and her mother’s grove had sent her to an elven community. Only there Elleth found no genuine acceptance; more treated like a curiosity rather than genuine a Elf.
Farhad looks unchanged yet calmer, the unsettled edge that had been present last he had stood within Amdirlain’s Domain nowhere in sight. “Neither Lerina nor I have any experience with children, and certainly not mortal childbirth. The petitioners, while they keep memories, sometimes have unexpected gaps, and I’d rather get help from someone whose memories aren’t questionable.”
“I’m only a junior Priestess,” protests Elleth again.
“You can protest, but you’re a junior Priestess with previous experience as a midwife and a Wizard.”
I wait and let the argument of Elleth’s ‘I’m not worthy’ and Farhad’s ‘you’re recommended’ go around in loops. The patience my husband shows draws a smile, even impatient as I am to have him home.
A kick that hits a rib makes me aware of how someone has finished shifting position. It’s tempting to touch the baby’s thoughts, but I don’t want to risk overwhelming her.
Now head down, she appears undistressed by her position; despite being curled up tight, she’s just playing with her fingers and drawing patterns in the fluid.
Seeing the conversation go around a few times too many times, I shortcut the process as Amdirlain would say. A Gate opening beside them has Elleth look my way, surprise and awe widening her honeyed gaze.
Farhad flows into readiness then relaxes immediately, and my serious husband miraculously smiles.
I know what he sees when he looks at me: I’m hardly in fighting shape, already looking like I’m fit to burst despite her needing at least another day. Yet his delighted smile lights up his eyes and he quickly enters the Gate. It’s only then that he motions towards Elleth.
“You mentioned the lack of midwives, so I thought I’d seek some help in the Taurë’s lands before I returned,” Farhad states. “Priestess Elleth, might I present Lady Aranya, or Ebusuku, as most in the Domain call her.”
Elleth momentarily struggles for words and even as I get worried, she’ll be able to think straight; she relieves me of that concern. “Lady Aranya, I’d be honoured to assist you, but I’m unsure what help I can offer.”
“My husband, I know, has already explained; I’m not sure what else I can add. Will you lend us your experience and assistance?”
“I’ll get my things,” Elleth says and manages a curtsey in her figure-hugging robes before hurrying out of sight.
She carries a large bundle in her arms when she returns within minutes. I can sense the things she’s carrying within it and wonder what else we missed. Fabricate will cover our daughter's clothing, blankets, and clothes, but she’s salves and other things I hadn’t considered.
What would Amdirlain do?
I take her bundle and pass it to Farhad, who carefully takes custody of it. Kissing Elleth’s cheek, I add a hug, and she relaxes into my greeting with such completeness that I catch the absence of genuine affection in her life—another broken one, like so many here. “Thank you for coming. I’m sure there is too much we don’t know. The baby has a heartbeat, so I believe she’s half-Celestial but not Celestial.”
When I step away, Elleth gives me a dazzling smile that brightens her heart-shaped face and removes the doubt from her gaze.
“There we’ll be on familiar ground. The few half-celestials I’ve seen records about were normal babies. Though when the mother was Celestial they had to take action and surgically remove the baby—to prevent any chance of injury during birth,” Elleth offers and continues at my raised eyebrows. “Birthing mothers need to push to deliver a child.”
“Remove?” I ask, being caught on the back foot by her suddenly switch to business.
“How did you expect to deliver the baby?” Farhad asks, and at my bemused look hurriedly continues. “Your strength is so high that it won’t go well.”
Grimacing at that mental image, I brush a hand across my stomach to reassure myself she’s okay. “Sorry, yes, I’m just waiting until she feels ready; as for the birthing process, I got some advice from Fen on that part. Taking care of a baby afterwards is where I’m in the dark.”
“Advice from that wolf?” snorts Farhad and I have to hide my amusement.
“It was direct and to the point,” I laugh. “You’re a Goddess, silly; just will her safely born. My body doesn’t want her hurt; my womb and stomach muscles don’t apply the force they could, and my shape-shifting restricted itself, refusing to let me shift form. I hope that when the child is ready to be born, it will let me change myself cosmetically to make the delivery easy. The important thing is: do you have ideas for a name?”
“How am I supposed to answer that without seeing her?” retorts Farhad, leaning in for a kiss. “Names should suit a person.”
Once I’ve appropriately rewarded him for returning in time, I return to their earlier point. “I’m glad you're back in time; we’ll talk about what kept you later. Birthing. I’ve already figured out two options for that. Do you have suggestions for determining the best time?”
“The mother’s water breaks when the baby is ready to be born,” offers Elleth, and I know what that means, at least.
“We’ll go based on that then,” I reply, glad for something more than the impatience that’s guided previous births I’ve seen. “Let’s get you settled into a room close at hand; I’m sure she’ll try to take me by surprise.”
“Of course, my lady, wherever is convenient,” replies Elleth.
“No need for titles; please call me Ebusuku.”
“That is a strange-sounding name,” offers Elleth. “Ebusuku, I will try to remember to use it.”
Elleth doesn’t blink when I Teleport us all into the study; the spells that create a bed and cupboards for her just get a happy nod. Farhad wisely doesn’t protest about me taking over his room.
“Why don’t you get settled, and then we can discuss what I need to know to take care of this little new beginning,” I say and motion Farhad towards our room. “I’d like to know what happened.”
Farhad gives Elleth a bow of thanks before he opens the hall door for me. “I’m not sure I can explain everything in a way that makes sense. Have you word about what’s happened since?”
“I’ve got some details, but things aren’t getting much better. The cadre isn’t playing favourites; anyone caught trying to spread the war outside Crete and Egypt either surrenders or gets smashed—they always get the choice. Isa transformed two regiments of experienced cat-folk soldiers to a Human form. They made it through without a problem, so while that helps tip the odds in the cadre’s favour, there are too many forces wanting to spill blood. The Adventurers’ Guild has already conquered a large swath of south-east Crete, and Egypt is in chaos.”
“No chance of them consolidating against the Crete forces?”
“That’s part of the problem; too many previously minor nobles fighting for the Pharaoh’s throne, in addition to the Grecian troops within their kingdom. Hittites recently killed the few Egyptian gods that survived the initial attacks. There have also been reports of sunset elves in a few places, apparently sacking Greek temples.”
“I thought the elves would have stayed out of it,” Farhad offers.
I can only shrug as he echoes my bewilderment. “They must have been inside the national borders before the war commenced. Now they seem to be intent on doing as much damage as possible rather than just leaving. Given they seem to portal about, they could have easily departed.”
A double-kick has me glancing down, and I can only wonder what’s got her excited. “You’ll hurt your feet, little one.”
Farhad steps close and rubs a hand across my belly, only to provoke a push. “Looks like she knows I’m here.”
Laying my hand atop his, I enjoy his excitement when she pushes some more. “She’s a little wiggler; talking gets her to settle down when she gets too excited.”
“Seems we’ll have to forgo our usual celebrations,” teases Farhad.
My eye roll just provokes his laughter. “Postpone, not forgo.”
That gets me another kick and two more when Farhad joins in my laughter.
“How did he hit you?”
Farhad looks at my stomach for a moment as if reluctant to speak about it even before an unborn baby. “His weapon was close to becoming an artifact or at least it felt that way from the miasma of death shrouding it. I decided it needed to be destroyed first, in case his death tipped it over the precipice. I deliberately sacrificed my ability to avoid him to do so.”
He hesitates, clearly unsure how to continue his explanation. “Even as I was flung away I realised I hadn’t acted because of any law or need of my own. I had acted for the common good, and that leant me the realisation that I had forgotten the true purpose of Law. Not the adherence to written words but the reason for its existence. Its purpose is to set rules to ensure the common good within a community. Those who write laws simply to profit from them or advantage themselves might as well be writing lies.”
With those words quietly shared, Farhad moves to wrap his arms around me, but he has to hold me side on. Still, he smiles contentedly.
“The greater law Master Cyrus asked me about couldn’t be determined by what he’d told me. When I realised why, my insights flowed; indeed, more than I could retain. Still, by the time I had decapitated Raivo, I had enough to transcend my previous state.”
“How long do you think you’ll be able to stay before the Domain gets too much for you?” I ask, hoping our daughter will see her father frequently.
“It wasn’t the Domain that was the source of the problem. That was from my flawed understanding, and the pearl of wisdom Master Cyrus' question was trying to get me to grow was irritating the flaws in my understanding. Now that I’m properly in my Tao, why should another’s path be upsetting to me?”
With that the kisses between us gets heated until little miss is administering too many kicks for me to avoid laughing at her antics. Farhad crouches and lifts my shirt to cover my stomach with kisses; as if she could feel it through my body. Yet still, either us ceasing to kiss, or his kisses in apology, calm her down.
“So you’re going to be happy here just training more celestials?”
“Well, I’ll still want to go out and perfect my skills. I have four new classes to progress.”
* * *
My water breaking catches me by surprise, and I carefully set the grimoire aside and pay attention to my womb. The little one isn’t in any distress, but there isn’t any point in waiting further. Elleth hurries from her room and freezes at seeing what I’m doing. Protean has objected to changes in my outward form, yet cooperates now as I shift my stomach open and expose the interior of my womb to free our child.
Caught by surprise or not, Elleth doesn’t hesitate to help, carefully supporting the child’s neck and lifting her free so I can restore myself. Mana glows in True Sight, as spells clear the gunk from the baby’s lungs, and she makes a little huff of surprise.
When she lazily blinks as if I’ve awakened her from sleep, Elleth looks at me in shock, but her hands don’t shake at holding an Elf from legend. Bronze-gold skin, delicate elven ears, and a turned-up nose match what I’d seen when viewing her inside me. Instead of the normal Elf-like eyes I’d half expected with her appearance, metallic gold irises glow with internal energy, causing the whites of her eyes to glow in sympathy.
Anar.
“How is this possible?” Elleth asks.
The suddenly loud thoughts within my daughter’s mind gives me an excuse to avoid the subject for now.
“How do you already understand words, little one?” I ask, avoiding Elleth’s question, given there were only two Anar souls I knew of in the Titan’s realm. Will Amdirlain need to retrieve her memories? Is that what the Titan had meant to Erwarth when he said she’d have to recover? With her curse, how did I end up with her as my daughter?
Elleth doesn’t pursue her question; instead retrieving various items from among those she’d brought along. In short order, we have the cord’s stub secured and swaddle her up—I’m sure I slowed the process. When I pick her up from the changing table, I catch more of my baby’s loud thoughts, careful only to brush the surface of her mind. She understands what we mean through the music that underlays our spoken words, carrying the truth within it.
Music, entire orchestras of sound, her mind flitting from one to another and meanings bloom from each. Then she’s back to reviewing what we said, dwelling on our exchange during the simple process of learning about the creams, rashes to watch for, and how to dress her.
Her mind had latched onto the music apparently representing me, an intense awareness. She instantly recognised my voice as her mother’s and wondered if my lack of a heartbeat was something to worry over when she’s got one. Now she’s just listening to the music of my movements and presence, taking comfort in it. Her mind is loud and strange, multiple orchestras and whole concepts running wild through her thoughts.
“You are a sharp little one,” I murmur.
It’s strange taking in her mental excitement for stimulus while her little fingers grasp one of mine. Faster than some adults I’ve met, she’s chasing down concepts relating to words—mental grumbling whenever some slip away. The Domain’s sounds provide multiple concepts, and—tied together—they race through her mind. When a happy wiggle causes the silk-wool blanket to brush her skin, yet another cascade starts.
Information on wool, cotton, silk and a dozen materials gets chased inside her thoughts—her mind going sulky when concepts escape her grasp. My listening catches her attention, and she deliberately presents me with a mental image of smuggling into an enormous ball of soft wool.
Soft footsteps pause at the door, and my body at last freely lets me shift to add hidden eyes.
“Any suggestion for names now?” I ask Farhad. As tempting as it is to name her Amdirlain, the Lómë said they never kept names between lifetimes.
He flows up beside us, and a precise musical score becomes louder in her mind.
Farhad looks her over, simply nodding calmly when her glowing gaze tries to focus on him. “I don’t think a Persian name makes sense. Gailneth, perhaps, it’s Andúnë for bright light, and you took on an elven name.”
She makes a little noise, and her thoughts confirm she knows what we’re discussing.
“Gailneth,” I say and catch her thoughts. “She thinks it's pretty but long.”
“How is she able to understand us already?” asks Farhad, this time astonishment evident in his tone.
“I thought she reacted when I spoke to her a few times in the womb but didn’t want to risk touching her mind; now she’s practically shouting at me,” I reply and catch the disbelief from them both. “Her mind isn’t like any Mortal’s I’ve encountered before. One concept leads onto another in a cascade, and she plays with them like toys, even if they try and slip away on her.”
Fighting off his surprise at my announcement, he looks at Elleth. “Ordil. It means morning sunlight, I believe.”
“That is close, lover or friend of morning sunlight, depending on the dialect,” confirms Elleth.
“I’ve no objections to either,” I reply. More wiggles, and an arm slips free from the enfolding blanket. Squirming so much, it's a balancing act to avoid injury while still not letting my hold slip. “It seems that she prefers the first; I caught a thought about squeezing it down until it's comfortable; it gives her plenty of nickname options, it seems.”
“How is she an Anar?” asks Elleth. “Our legends say that after their city’s fall, their souls all travelled to seek new realms, unable to be reborn.”
“Gailneth or Ordil?” I propose, trying to avoid Elleth’s question. “Time to choose. What do you say?”
The cheeky miss burbles away, almost as if she’s trying to answer the question, but I catch sleepy thoughts about her tummy. “I think she’s hungry; let's see if my body will provide for her.”
Elleth doesn’t wholly buy my evasion but goes to shoo Farhad out so I can breastfeed. “It’s alright; he’s seen my breasts before. Certainly, I don’t believe the sight will shock him.”
Another quick Spell cleans up the last mess the water left and I settle down to feed her. I don’t take action with Protean, but it takes a bit of encouragement from her suckling before she gets anything. “Complaints about food already.”
“What?” echoed Farhad and Elleth in different tongues.
“She says it doesn’t taste like the concept of milk that came to her,” I explain and look down at her sleepy expression. “Looks like you got home just in time, husband.”
“Have you forgotten my name, Ebusuku?” asks Farhad.
“Well, you were gone for so long, maybe you’ll have to remind me; of a few other things as well.”
Shaking his head in amusement, Farhad sits close by, watching our daughter. The wiggling arm gets free from the swaddling. It almost looks like she’s going to wave at him before she puts her hand possessively atop my breast.
“She likes your music, but I think she’s hungry,” I state, and her mind’s loud announcement surprises me. “She said it's her bottle, not for papa.”
The shared announcement made them laugh even though Elleth covered her face with both hands.
“Anyway, to see something like an imprint for her to determine her situation?” asks Farhad.
“I’ll ask Moradin about a Soul Forge. I remember Torm saying the Norse use them to assess their Celestials.”
Comments
Glenn Wright
Not relevant, Ebusuku is strong enough that Gail's Anar traits will come through true with some extras.
Robin Richards
So is she a pure Anar or Half-celestial, half-anar and is the distinction even relevant?
