Chapter Text
"Scars are the paler pain of survival received unwillingly and displayed in the language of injury"
-Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves. (Chapter 9, Page 130.)
After the sun dragged the pink in, they reached the far side of Hiisi Island. There, the forest opened itself for them, shifting into a single path that allowed them to gently glide below the canopy until they reached a cleared stretch of the coast.
In it, a lone tree trunk lies by the shoal. Around, the trees seemed to curl away from it, framing the retreat with pale flowers and other drooped vines that swayed gently with the breeze. Conches and other eye-catching stones littered the black sand, dragged in and out, day by day through the weak riptides that cleansed the beach of any monotony in its design.
Finally, the sea got in and out of their feet, singing a dulcet drone of waves crashing against ancient stones.
“What do you think?” On the opposite side of the trunk, Lauma sat down, looking at Nefer through her shoulder.
Nefer simply stood there, absentmindedly clutching her chest as her expression melted into an uncharacteristically ecstatic smile. She languidly walked up and around, running her fingers across the wood until they found a curl of Lauma’s hair, hooking her index to it as a tether, both means and permission to land safely next to her.
Together, they let their bodies spill to each other, releasing the weight of many things unsaid until they blended together. Lauma allowed the full pressure of her body to land on Nefer’s side, while the other woman became a cornerstone to her. Strangely, neither felt the need to push back or readjust at the closeness, given it had been all but sudden.
Nefer sighed. “It 's perfect. I’m flattered you thought about me enough to prepare all this.”
“Oh, this was here already. It’s just… a place I arranged, when I need to relax. No one, not even the animals can come around here.
“Mhm.” Barely nodded Nefer. “In that case, then I’m flattered you trusted me enough to show me this.”
Lauma smiled softly. She placed her palm on Nefer’s, knitting her phalanges with her.
“Yours are calloused, mine are scarred.” She looked off in the distance.
Nefer looked down at the hand atop. Faint, slightly darker tissue crept to the sides of Lauma’s pale hand, viewed from above. Despite the lack of a physical reaction, her heart twisted at the sight.
“What happened to you?” She claimed, the low tone of her voice not concealing the strain in it.
“Part of our rituals.” Lauma rushed across her speech.
Nefer didn’t believe it. Despite having no evidence and holding self-flagellation as a fact and part of a religious life, just the thought of Lauma having to hack her palms for a god that wouldn’t bleed the same way made her blood boil.
She tried to push that doubt down, against her consciousness screaming at her to probe, to get to the bottom of it. Nefer just gripped her palm tighter, releasing in uneven intervals until her heart settled.
“Tell me.” Nefer lifted her head to face Lauma. “Please.”
Lauma sighed, just letting a little exasperation out at Nefer’s almost pleading expression. “I really can’t keep anything from you, can I?”
Nefer raised her eyebrow, believing it was the other way around, that she was the one who yielded her secrets when the two were together. Lauma ran the nail in her thumb through her middle finger, pulling and tearing the skin down until it bled silver. She ran her finger through a blister in Nefer’s palm, which trembled at the sight of it covering the pale yellow with a greyed substance that devoured the wound in a blink, leaving a contrastingly clear spot where it once had been.
“As you can see, my blood is… different from the rest.”
Sarakka’s mannerism of referring to Lauma as ‘Extraordinary’ came to Nefer, who was just now feeling —not even months ago, not even hours ago— the full wingspan of that expression.
“You really are one marvel after another, aren’t you?”
Lauma fell silent. Regardless, she forced a weak smile at the comment. “So I’ve been told.”
Her whole life.
A wonder of nature, a gift from the Moon Goddess, a ‘Captivating Specimen’. Words that Scions and not have used to outline their whole perception of her, to just how she looks and what she can’t help but be. It had been beyond maddening all these years, to be handled like porcelain by her parents in her childhood, only to shift into a load-bearing presence in every conversation. Everyone looked at her with a degree of adoration and expectance she hadn’t asked for, all the time. As if the answer to their problems was spilling from her head.
And there was Nefer. Who had given her an unasked for night, who looked at her with just enough peckishness in her eyes to feel grounding, for her to feel coveted in a way no one but she made her feel. Someone whom she found every movement and expression endearing despite the clear ability for harm she had through the information she amassed with each word the two exchanged.
Someone who saw her for who she was or whatever that ‘who’ was, the unseen one that existed in the periphery of the titles and traits everyone clung to when they spoke of her.
“Still, it does seem concerning.”
Lauma flinched at the words. “What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t take a genius to see how that alone could draw the worst kind of attention towards you. I remember a group of students staring at you when we danced. And I don’t know just how common-place it is to have antlers here, or to turn into a glowing centaur at will or to heal others through your own wounds.” Nefer took a deep breath. “But I’d hate to see something happen to you because of it.”
Lauma’s throat tightened at the words. That silent, sharp acknowledgement, both of Nefer’s concern and her own situation shone a warm light in her heart. For the first time since she was a child, she felt as if she wasn’t alone, that it hadn’t been her selfish discomfort the one that pricked at her sense of self, and that her feelings had been seen, held and perceived.
“That means a lot.”
“Coming from me?”
“A lot regardless, your voice enhances it.”
Nefer felt warm beneath her. The two sat together, watching the sun slowly sink beneath the tide.
“Seriously though, you should use something to moisturize your palms. It feels like I could start a fire with them” The smile in Lauma’s voice was palpable. “Maybe that’s how you got that blister.”
Nefer grunted, seeking to mask any self-consciousness in her voice.
The way back had been just as magical. At night, the flowers from earlier emitted a faint glow that turned the plains into a sea of stars that shimmered in repose, tempting anyone that passed by to lie down in between the blooms.
In the distance, far away, a large group of acolytes descended while the two went up. The Frostmoon Scions had finished their work for today.
“Where are we going now?” Nefer inquired.
“The way back to Nasha Town must be dangerous at this hour. How about you stay the night with me?” Lauma looked back at her, lips curling into a smirk.
“You’ve seen me. I can handle myself well enough.”
Lauma hummed into the night. “I suppose you’re right. You’re free to go back, then”
Nefer kept walking next to her, silent this time. Lauma just kept humming, bouncing on her step again, content with the result.
They arrived at a wide stone house. Despite the greyish front, it still looked homely on every corner. Potted plants by the windows and a small orchard at the back. Many carved lamp posts were wedged in the front yard, while several wooden bowls with seeds, fruit and even some dried bugs stood at floor level, lined up one after another as a means of offering to animals that may pass nearby.
“I just need to pick up some things for you to be able to sleep at my house.” Lauma pushed the door open, the only security being a flat stone behind it.
“Isn’t this your house?”
“This is my parents’ house. My house was part of the gift for my ceremony.”
Nefer leaned back to the wall, facing the front yard and the minuscule quarry that seemed to be in front and away.
“You can come in.” Lauma craned her head through the door frame, putting her face very close to Nefer’s green hair.
“...Isn’t that a little too much trust?” Nefer turned to face Lauma, flinching when she found her so close.
Lauma meditated for a second. “Maybe.”, then, she grabbed Nefer’s shoulder and dragged her in. She draped a fur that hung behind the door over her back, and closed it again.
“Also, temperatures drop really fast when night falls. Freezing like that would be unpleasant for both of us.”
“Fair point. I’ll still make sure to not touch anything.”
“Suit yourself.” Lauma giggled, disappearing at the far end of a hallway.
Nefer didn’t say anything about not looking, especially things that could allow her to gather information on Lauma through the angle of her childhood.
She made her way through the house, noting the lack of window frames of any kind, with the only thing covering them being ornate, almost translucent curtains that flowed from wooden rods hanging from above every window. Aside from that, there was not much of note. The place was undoubtedly ample, and it almost seemed not lived in. Even the kitchen looked unnaturally bare. No utensils, dishes or rags in sight. They were absent and must have been for quite some time.
Away from the kitchen, the walls and other smaller tables were covered in intricate carvings made out of wood and gemstones. Jewelry, statuettes and some olive wreaths adorned with Nocturnal Blossoms. Surely, gifts from the ceremony.
In the hallway Lauma went through, Nefer found what she was looking for. Lined up, one after another, 18 paintings of Lauma at every year of her life hung from the wall, each one separated by other tables, some with candles, and the sparse library that reached Nefer’s hip in height. She quickly made note of the fact that the lower levels of the furniture had been emptied recently, with the faint squared outlines of dust that remained consistent across every one of them.
Her attention returned to the paintings. She carefully scanned across the sequence, seeing how her wide, crooked smile slowly transformed into the gentle curl she had seen her do many times already. Regardless, the smiles that Nefer had seen of Lauma felt more similar to the ones around ages 5 to 9. Unguarded and bright.
She chuckled when she got to her teenage years. Despite looking relatively similar, in her 13th picture there was a—
“Did you find something to distract yourself while I was away, Nefer?” Lauma appeared behind her. Nefer turned her head around slowly, her expression torn between surprise and laughter.
“What is that thing you’re wearing?”
“My parents were concerned about my health and the painter had a busy schedule, so ‘that thing’ made the cut.”
“You look like you’re being held hostage in that one. It looks unnatural.”
“Any more questions?”
“Many.”
Lauma sighed. “Where did the ‘I won’t touch anything’ Nefer go?”
Nefer defiantly crossed her arms, laughing again when she looked at the painting.
“It really isn’t that funny, is it?” Lauma blushed a little, almost embarrassed at the image.
“Ha… it probably isn’t.”
“It’s just a back brace. You had no reason to laugh like that!”
“I didn’t even know what it was called until you brought it up.” Nefer walked toward the end of the hallway, cackling to herself as Lauma followed closely.
“My antlers started to become way too heavy when I was still young, I needed to wear that!”
Nefer laughed louder, her crossed arms now lowered to clutch her belly.
“I bet you must have plenty of ‘embarrassing’ pictures too.” Lauma playfully snapped back. Nefer stopped laughing.
Despite the comment, Lauma could feel that her silence hadn’t been one of anger, but of something larger, flatter in a lower key.
“I think I have. Back in Sumeru.” Nefer plucked some of the fur with her fingers. “But I had to travel light.”
“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”
“Don’t apologize. It's in the past and you can count yourself fortunate to not belong to it.”
Lauma walked past her, disappearing again into the hallway. Nefer followed her behind until she turned around, inadvertently entering her room.
It was probably the most lived-in part she had seen so far. A long bed was placed beneath the window, right next to a desk where piles and piles of books were stacked on the side. Poetry, mathematics, lore, novels… It was a library of its own. On the walls, many sketches of animals and flowers were glued to them, their quality progressing the further up they stuck. A chest lay between the foot of the bed and the wall, whereas on the opposite end, a large closet filled with aged wooden crates and several dresses, cloths and nightgowns hung all around, all paired with sandals and heels set up beneath each article. Above, a rudimentary chandelier was front and center in the ceiling, spitting ash on the thick rug below despite looking like it had seen more use before.
The two looked at each other when Nefer entered the room, then quickly looked away.
“I should be the one to say sorry, not you.” Said Nefer, scratching her arm. “I didn’t mean to make fun of you or snap like that, let alone enter here.”
“Nefer… You’re here already. Because I wanted you to.”
Nefer looked to the ground, doubled over with a pained expression.
Lauma walked up to her and tucked a strand of Nefer’s hair behind her ear.
“It pains me more when you act like you’re not welcome here, because that’s how I’ve been trying to make you feel this whole time. It’s the reason why we’re here, so that you can sleep comfortably.”
She cupped her hand in Nefer’s cheekbone, feeling its warmth increase little by little.
“Because I want you to stay with me.”
Nefer’s eyes finally met Lauma’s again. She thought of the condition her house was in, the utter darkness in which she made her bedding every night and where she had shed what tears she still had in her. She thought of the cold, of how frigid and harsh it had been with her for the last months and how her hands trembled, unaided and made unsteady by the frost.
And beneath that turbid sequence, Lauma was there, smiling in between it all. It wasn’t a selfish act of beggary, to accept this gesture that went beyond hospitality. Even if her pride told her to not take any handouts, that she was a fool for procuring a debt like that, the truth was there. And wasn’t that what she had been looking for?
“I want to… stay with you too.” Nefer said, soft and debilitatingly vulnerable, for both of them.
Lauma retreated wordlessly, pulling a large knitted bag from the closet. In it, she shoved pillows and another blanket. The books tumbled into the bag with a sweeping motion from her arm, thudding at the bottom. In the closet, she hung down a nightgown that didn’t fit her anymore, and neatly folded it over her forearm. She slotted it in between the books and gave a pull to the rope, sealing the thing with it.
She threw the bag over her shoulder, bicep and deltoids tensing up, rippling beneath the skin.
“Let’s go.”
Lauma was right. The sun had fully hidden out of view and the earth had grown colder, enough to reach Nefer through the thick fur she was wearing.
“We’re midway through the year, how is it so cold?” Nefer shivered, tempted to drop to the ground and bury herself in it.
“I read that in other nations they have winter by the end of the year and not halfway through it, so maybe it’s supposed to be warm in Sumeru around this time?”
“It’s warm all the time in there. The only thing that varies in the jungle is whether it rains or not.”
“So… Is it winter when the year ends in Sumeru?” Lauma inquired, huddling closer to Nefer.
“There is no winter there!” Nefer tried shooing her away, envious at her impassiveness to the weather.
“If that was the case, the jungle wouldn’t exist. Constant cycles of heat and rain allow every process in the ecosystem to occur faster, such as metabolism, digestion and decomposition. Because the latitude in which Sumeru is located receives that constant heat and light, winter never comes and life can thrive all year round.”
“...Or so It’s theorized.”
Lauma blinked, then looked at Nefer with a different set of eyes, hungrier ones.
“I didn’t know you knew so much about the natural world.”
“I read a little about it.” A lie. She had devoured a good chunk of the library in the time she spent at the Akademiya, but it’s not like she wanted to be presumptuous when it came to her knowledge, though it was more of a problem with the place she had to snatch it from.
Lauma hummed, a little disappointed at Nefer’s guardedness. She still wanted to learn more about the world outside, especially Sumeru since that’s where the woman next to her hailed from, but with her reactions came the feeling that it would be best to not bring it up despite her curiosity.
“You mentioned the Akademiya when we first met. Did you study there?” In truth, Lauma had made the connection a while ago. After finding out through a merchant and some books what kind of institution it was, paired with Nefer’s penmanship and this scholarly ‘theory’ she shared, it had become apparent.
She still tied her tongue in knots, deciding to take what Nefer gave her instead of trying to wrang it out herself.
On Nefer’s side, she felt she wasn’t in the clear yet. She took a deep breath and exhaled, gripping the fur closer, and Lauma with it.
“I did. For quite some time. But it was a… constricting place.”
Constricting. That was the word she used. It fitted her experience like a glove, and yet, much of the woes contained in the large, hollow C and the feeble g that couldn’t quite close it still spilled from time to time. The sleepless nights of research that led to nowhere because no one would support her, all of the questions that, regardless of their intentions didn’t feel any less pejorative in their frequency, given it was the only thing most students and teachers would approach her for. Hell, even their interest in her had always been as a sociological subject, control group or a phenotypical outlier given her background. That teacher who had tried to ‘claim the debt she owed to him for treating her like a real student’.
“And it’d be a disservice to my own process to dwell on it any more than I need to.”
“Thanks for telling me, Nefer.”
Nefer raised her brow with her face hidden by the fur. She was expecting follow-up questions, that their absence whispered Lauma knew already just from what Nefer had given her. Still, Lauma kept her mind at distance now, while her heart stayed close. Good enough.
“...You’re welcome.”
Lauma’s house seemed smaller on the outside than on the inside. It was welcoming and warm regardless. In spirit. The grey floor was cold and had she not brought those sandals, Nefer would have kept her feet away from it the entire time.
“Come in.”
Nefer held her hand and pulled through. It still felt like it was larger on the inside, but the place was undoubtedly a home. There were stacked cups in the corner of the kitchenette and the pattern of books at the dining table that doubled as a desk carried over Lauma’s previous living space, bringing life and purpose to it all the same.
“It’s really comfortable. A little smaller than the other house but homely nonetheless."
“My parents tried giving me their house. I declined for a year until they gave up and built this place.” Lauma opened the bag and pulled out the pillows, stacking them against the bedhead
“Wouldn’t it have been better to have a more ample space?”
“You saw how large spaces and austere people don’t go well together. That much space I’d never use and it leads to more messes occupying it.”
“I didn’t think of that.”
“Besides, nature is ample enough for me if I need somewhere else to work.”
“Right.” Nefer scanned the papers pinned by the books. Some were aged maps being cross-referenced with modern ones, with illegible notes at each corner of the sheets. The contents of the books went from novels on Reed Miller that stood just enough out of the way to indicate they had been discarded almost immediately upon their acquisition, to hard-cover texts at the top, with several papers sticking out of the crevices in some pages.
“Trying to learn about Reed Miller? I thought he was just a petty thief.”
Lauma bolted to the table to pick up her research, dumping it at the bottom of her own closet.
“He’s relevant to Nod-Krai’s history.” Lauma rubbed her temple “But that book was useless. It’s very sensationalized and doesn’t line up with the accounts in our library.”
“I’m trying to find information on the Nod-Krai of today, something that can answer why your vision changed into a Moon Wheel and how irrigation and drainage systems work.” She said as if it was the simplest thing in the world. Three topics, sapping her mind in three different directions. Nefer placed her hand on her back, rubbing her shoulderblade with her left thumb.
“I saw people trying to take on many subjects at once in the Akademiya. It never ends well. For starters, the first topic is a really broad one.” She said with sympathy, holding Lauma’s tired face in her eyes.
“But that doesn’t mean I can’t help.”
Lauma’s eyes lit up, before being brought down by the weight of her lids and back. She was tired.
“That girl Verna seems to have you covered on the other one. She seemed eager to figure that out herself, and so do you. Work through each other instead of throwing yourselves alone at the problem.”
“And to me, it seems like you’ll have to live without that answer if something like that has never happened. Doesn’t change the fact I have another tool in my arsenal, and I can live with that. So should you.”
Lauma snapped out of her trance, brought about by Nefer’s captivating voice and the wealth present in every word she spoke.
“You’re really good at this, you know that?”
“Talking?”
“Laying down what you think in a way that’s comprehensive. That’s a skill I have spent my entire life honing, but you certainly have a way with words, Nefer.”
Nefer scoffed, her chest puffed up at the praise. “I just try to be objective. Don’t let it get to my head.”
Nefer changed inside of the closet. She discarded her clothes in a pile covered by the bag and quietly slipped into the nightgown Lauma acquired for her. She took off the top and allowed her nipples to peek through the fabric, having shed any modesty quite some time ago.
She came out, locking eyes with Lauma who was reading something in her bed, already tucked in between the sheets. They both stared at each other for a measurable enough second, drinking in their domestic appearance.
At the head of the bed, Lauma had a large amount of pillows stacked upwards, made to brace her antlers when they grew at night. Two lone pillows were squished at the base of her neck while one rested to the side, where Nefer was about to go to sleep.
“What do you think of my accommodations?” Said Lauma, a tinge of pride in her voice despite her closed eyes, trying to not make them wander to Nefer’s chest
“Very clever. Thanks for the nightgown.”
Nefer snuck into the bed. In minutes, the room fell silent until all that remained was their breath and Lauma’s sped up heartbeat.
She looked beautiful, so serene in her sleep and how fast it claimed her.
Nefer followed suit, facing the cold wall until the fatigue, mixed with the frost that had seeped into her mind pulled her to the depths of her own subconscious.
°°°
Young Nefer as: The Unmourned.
This scene had become entirely familiar for her. The sand had turned into a trope for everything she had lost, and now she had to face it again. This time was different. She was still young, but she wasn’t in the cellar like in the past. She was outside, with the cliffs and dried roots that peered from above as the only witnesses to the bloodbath.
In the distance, she saw a familiar figure, kneeling in the ground. One she had only been able to picture in dreams for most of her life, yet still refused to leave her side. Or was she who couldn’t let go?
It didn’t matter. Because there he was. Sinuhe, her father
with a scimitar lodged in his head.
here then
the
aftermath
of
ethos
Crying
out
from
his skull
and pooling at Nefer’s feet
staining her toes with red
She looks down, and just in front of her, the ground
s
t
r
e
t
c
h
e
s
away
from her face.
Which can only mean
It is giving way,
She has grown larger, or
It is both.
Nefer looks forward again. She has, in fact, aged and her arm is bent out, stretching towards her father’s torn side.
in
her
h
and,
the
han
dle
of a
scimitar
Keeps at a distance what’s left of his face.
She screams, though
only
a
red
d
r
o
o
l
comes out, reaching for the one that pours from the ground. The blood is now covering her right arm, stretching from where the blade’s edge is lodged.
while the one at her feet clings to her skin, climbing towards her hip
to meet
where her own
wound
was.
Or well, where it should have been.
With already questionable consistency, the ground now loses solidity, stealing Nefer’s footing along the way down
She is falling.
The chasm
despite bei-
ng wide as
far as her e-
yes can tell
feels unbea-
rably cramp
ed.
There is no air
resistance. in
fact
there is no
speed
. no
acceleration
and no slowing down with how
fast she
should be
going.
There is not wind howling
past her ears
at the theoretical speed with which she should
hit something
eventually.
but
There is not an edge or wall
or ground that will claim her
.
it is just
her.
It is just
Nefer.
She,
and
her
regrets and
her
fulfilled bloodlust turned into the ‘fate that no desertfolk can escape’. The iron that once ran through
her
veins now molded into chains that, for someone who met
her
end seeking absence and seeing red, is as fitting as to starve surrounded by gold.
*
Her
field of view narrows.
She
has been swallowed by the darkness entirely. No other stimuli but the droning heat that turns
her
neck sticky with sweat,
her
body still refusing to let the heatstroke claim
her.
She
drowns in that colorless shimmer
curling inward, clutching her shins as the
lack of an end drives
her
to bring it to
her
by the second.
♩
In one last attempt to bring her own heat to this world, she hums a melody, holding back the want to chew her tongue off.
"
Nothing will.
Nothing will release this cloying sensation.
Maybe
she
died already. Maybe she did a long time ago
What matters is that it
can’t matter anymore.
Nothing can
and nothing will
Reach
her
here.
As much as
she
wants it to.
⏾
The wind picks up. Something drags her hair upwards and it peels at her skin, like a million tiny shards of sand and glass are crashing against her arms and legs. Nefer can now look beyond her shoulders.
At the corner of her eye, a pale grey dot cries out moonlight. Solid, one she can hold onto.
“Light—!” Nefer croaks. “Can’t be—”
Despite not seeing it, she can feel it.
She’s reaching the ground.
Regrettably, Life triumphs over Death. Because she’s now holding onto the faint light, burning her thighs and palms with it.
She doesn’t stop. Something closes down on her.
Still, she clings to the moonlight even when it’s peeling her skin off.
On the last remaining heartbeats, she closes her eyes, trying to sew them shut with her lashes. Her heart beats slower, and slower, as if her system was telling her to check out, bracing for what comes next. This time however, it is out of calm acceptance.
Because unlike the uncertainty from before, she now knows it will be over soon.
—r”
Something akin to windchimes ring through the air, at a steady rhythm.
—er?”
No. Windchimes can’t be steady. Bells ring through the air. They’re speaking?
—fer!”
They’re speaking her name. Their tempo increases. With it, the realm trembles
—efer!? —Ok?”
Moonlight reaches the ground, piercing it in the process.
she’s speeding up, and so are the bells
“Nefer!”
In an instant, the darkness shattered in a million pieces, vanishing as the remaining chunks drift into nothingness. It was so white and bright, yet its warmth mended her. Arms, wrist, thighs, abdomen, all of it. The light gently cradled her, until it was all she was. Connected as part of a larger whole, seeing her entire life in the larger machinations of the universe, as opposed to the isolation that came before her name.
She opened her eyes, despite never having closed them in the first place. And she finds herself in a metaphorical arc. Lauma’s arms held her close, while her concerned expression pinned her spirits down.
“Nefer…?” Lauma runs her thumb against Nefer’s wet cheek. “Are you ok?”
She tried to hold back a sob, failing miserably. Nefer sank her face in Lauma’s collarbone, while the other answered with a gentle rake on her scalp. Lauma held her close now, placing her leg on top of Nefer’s.
The two fell asleep in between broken cries. Lauma stayed put and did her best to keep her together, knowing her presence is enough for this.
With Lauma there, however, Nefer’s sleep became unmoved by the past, letting herself fall into a gentle dark, at peace beneath the tides of the bedsheets with her.