While You Were Gone

8/13/2019 While You Were Gone

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Divinity's Reach was usually a busy place.

The human capital, full to the brim with politics and intrigue, seemed to draw people

from all over Tyria in a way that even Lion's Arch, universally acknowledged melting potthat it was, couldn't rival. It wasn't unusual to turn up to any of the popular taverns to

find them overrun with jovial travelers, even the more tolerant of the Charr, and

occasionally, though never very loudly, the locals would murmur under their breaths

about the challenges of trying to maneuver around the tourists simply to pursue the

requirements of daily life. The recent attack should have driven them away but, if

anything, it had only seemed to attract more. It made sense, in a way. Neither Norn nor

Charr willingly ran from a fight, the Asura were feeling more than a little miffed at the

implication that their own had been involved in this diabolical mess, and the Sylvari...

Well, a lot of them hadn't seemed to notice.

Wintersday had pushed everything, and everyone, to their limits, however. The crowds

had become unbearable at times and the battle for resources and supplies had lefttempers frayed. Business was booming but the demand pushed prices up and, suddenly,

those who had lived within the walls all their lives, in the house their ancestors had built

so many centuries before, found their festivities gift-wrapped and shipped off to foreign

lands, where coveted trinkets would no doubt simply fall into obscurity as the year

progressed and other souvenirs took their place.

The Seraph had stepped up, however, and the increase in tension had been mostly

absorbed without serious incident. Nobody had expected it. Salma was a popular

district, a vibrant district, a wealthy and successful district. It had its shady areas like any

other part of the city but, even with the tavern in such high demand, the atmosphere

was usually that of controlled mayhem. Salma was well-guarded. Fist-fights were broken

up quickly. Crime kept to its darkened alleys. Salma was safe, or as safe as anywhere

could be.


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Nobody remembered how it started, except perhaps the two at the centre of it.

Disagreement over prices, perhaps, or competition over a remaining item sought by two

serious bidders. The little market there had been struggling to keep up with demand fordays and, with the heightened frenzy of the impending morn, Wintersday Eve had

pushed them to their limits. The little music stall was selling instruments only meant as

display to tone-deaf Norn who didn't know the difference. Misshapen figurines set aside

for recasting were snatched out of hands with all the eagerness of true ignorance, the

imperfections unnoticed by those simply wanting something 'from afar' to send home for

the cubs. Most of all, it was the rivalry.

Too many strong personalities, too much ancient pride and too much ancestral

aggression compressed into such a tiny space. Those pushing and shoving were often far

bigger than those getting in their way, it was inevitable that something would eventually

break. Curt words, hurled insults, and one wayward fist were all it took.

Salma's market was in riot.

By now much of the property was ruined and those who hadn't fled, who had taken

issue and picked up the nearest thing to swing, were too far invested to retreat. As those

already drunk realised what was happening and spilled from the tavern into the fray, the

hostilities had only spread further until, suddenly, the streets were in flames. And it was

a release, of frustration and sorrow and old prejudice, of unhappiness or loneliness or

everything that made this time of the year so horrendous for those looking at life from

the bottom of the well. The Row and all its denizens emptied onto the well-lit streets

with a venom they rarely dared show in full-light and claimed them, arbitrary punches

flung at whoever stood in the way to claim the centuries' of blame.

Smoke. Sweat. Blood. Salma had erupted.


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*****

Deldrum was unaware of the riots going on in Salma, and no doubt around or possibly

in his home. Del had been out in the city all day, searching, listening, reading. Heneeded a secure job, something to help pay for his house and the upkeep it required, as

well as other necessities.

He had been out since early morning. After one failed job hunt he took a break for

lunch. There he over heard the need of one of the human noble houses for guards. In

truth it wasn't his first choice, but it was a job, it was work. Possibly work that would

involve getting out of the city from time to time. It would at least pay the bills.

Following up on the lead he found his way over to the nobles home. There he was given

an employment interview and accepted in as a guard of the house. He was told his work

would start the next day. His pay would be satisfactory. His hours were manageable. It

was work. It was a chance to do something more than sit at home.

Home. He headed for home just as bored looking as before. He was a bit anxious to tell

Ria about his new job. Afraid she might do something crazy with all the time she was

bound to have on her hands. She would be okay, he was sure of it. He got the job, in

part because of her. He needed to be able to support himself, as well as her.

As he neared Salma he saw smoke billowing out of the district. Panic struck him. The

smoke was dark and billowing out so fast and so heavy on the air. He ran, Audowyn

running beside him. He didn't stop running until he made it to his house, which wasn't

easy. Luckily his house was right through the gates, but groups of people were fighting in

front of his home. He landed a few good punches at least.

*****


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In her usual unique, irrepressible and faintly perplexing way, Ystyria had actually

managed the unthinkable; she had slept through the first of the hostilities.

That wasn't entirely her fault, or so she'd reason later. This Wintersday stuff had driveneveryone into a frenzy and had made getting to bed at what might be considered a

'reasonable' time, (in her case, anything before 2am), something of a challenge. There

were too many places to go, people to meet and bar-fights to snicker at for her to

sacrifice the night to something as mundane as sleep and, with the big fellow now

somehow caught between being the grumpy curmudgeon he'd always been and

someone inclined to pretend to smile once in a while, it was touch-and-go as to how

long she'd be left to her own devices. She'd stumbled in at 6am and promptly fallen

asleep on the couch. It was as good a place as any.

With the momentous task of sleeping off an all-night bender on her hands, it was little

wonder than the Sylvari didn't register the far-off sounds of wood smashing and people

screaming. The world was a different place when she slept, the haze of her dreams as

they drifted towards the occasional nightmare was as close as the woman got totouching the life she couldn't remember and so she tended to sink deeply, suffocating in

her own obscurity until something startled her awake. It was a mark of trust that she

consented now to sleep when Deldrum was around because his presence meant

acknowledge the fact that she woke up screaming more often than not. Her vulnerable

side was stuck somewhere between her dreams and reality; Ria didn't enjoy that

sensation much.

This time, it was someone else's scream that had slowly forced her to peel open an eye

and stare at the world with a mixture of disgruntled displeasure and wariness. Her face

had been smooshed into the couch cushions, her angle now such that she was nearly

rolled off the damn thing and had a very good view of the floorboards. And she could

smell smoke. Great, was she on fire again?


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Why had she thought 'again'?

When she'd finally dragged herself up to see what the fuss was all about, the world had

suddenly turned into an impossible place; something that finally resembled the hauntedimages her mind threw at her when she was asleep. Aghast, it had been easy to mistake

it for fantasy, to believe that she was still curled up in the living room, reliving the

horrors she couldn't lay name to but the imagery was a little too pervasive and the

stench a little too intrusive for that fear to hold. When she ventured out, it had been as

much to convince herself she wasn't dreaming as to offer any help. She certainly hadn't

meant to get involved.

But the place had gone to hell, the madness that had descended was palpable and,

wide-eyed, the cynical Sylvari felt for the first time in ages a fresh stab of fear and

uncertainty. The unnoticed watcher, she had managed to wander practically into the

thick of it, side-stepping flying bottles and flailing limbs, and it seemed, for a moment,

that you could remain invisible amidst this inferno as long as you didn't touch it, didn't

interact with it, didn't get involved .

It was....surreal.

And so, Ystyria stood, on the bridge, looking out over hell, barely herself and yet so

totally and complete an older, haunted version that she was almost unrecognisable. The

sass, the attitude, the sarcasm. That personality that coiled around her and kept her safe.

Gone. And in its place only eyes, chasm-deep eyes, staring in horror as the world

burned.

*****

Deldrum ran into his house first, checking both floors but not finding Ria. Frantic, he ran

back outside into the insanity that pushed and shoved him away. He felt blows


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connecting with various points of his body. He heard Audowyn's squawk as she too was

hit, she fought back however. He had to pull her away.

Being frantic was a new feeling for Deldrum. Well, not new, but a long forgotten one.He had not been frantic since Amaryllis went missing in the middle of the night. He had

not been frantic since her death. When his arm was ripped off in Orr, he had kept his

wits about him, had kept his cool and his calm. He had become so used to being that

way that being this way was almost enough to make him more frantic.

What had happened here? What had caused Salma to fall into itself like this? The better

question was where was Ria? His concern for her overrode his questions and worries for

his house and his own safety. Ria may annoy him, and certainly confuse him with his

budding feelings for her, but her safety was the most important thing. He would never be

able to forgive himself if something happened. He couldn't let another person he was

sworn to protect, die. He just couldn't.

Finally he pushes far enough through the crowds to find a small clear space on thesidewalk. He stops there, holding onto Audowyn whom was busy trying to peck and

claw at anyone that got too close. His eyes scan over the crowds. Humans, Sylvari,

Charr, even Norn and a few Asura were involved in the fighting. None of the Sylvari

were the one he was looking for.

Then he spots her. On the bridge. He starts to push through the crowd, eyes locked on

her. He let's go of Audowyn, giving her free roam to attack anyone that dared to hit her

or Del. No matter how many people he pushes out of the way, more seem to pile in.

*****


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"Why?"

There was nobody around to hear her, ironically Ria had managed to drift towards the

one pinprick of peace amidst the tumultuous chaos. Even as Salma filled, drowning in itsown filth, a lofty causeway that connected two otherwise uninteresting arteries rarely

attracted a crowd and thus stretched over the mayhem, the hatred and the anger and the

fear creating a vacuum the sucked everything towards its centre. She had a perfect view

from her distant vantage point, if such a view could ever be said to be perfect.

Yet, despite her unhindered vision, it wasn't the fighting that Ystyria saw. The blood, the

broken bones, the shattered glass or smashed furniture. In her mind's eye, surrounding

by the screams of savage onslaught, she saw a murkier battlefield, shrouded in mist, a

thousand and more minds screaming into the void, a vacant plea for someone, anyone,

to save them. She recalled smells, sounds, sensations and the intangible melody from a

single instrument but it was a view superimposed, as if an army of ghosts had arisen to

dance in this devilment, scattered amongst the flailing crowd in silent accusation.

She didn't see Deldrum.

Nor did she see where the first turret fell. As tensions escalated and fists turned to

weapons, it was inevitable that ballistics would eventually become the option of the

desperate. A thousand screams seemed to lift in unison, the metallic clunk of a dozen

mechanisms whirring into place bringing a cold, cynical precision to the battle that

heated fury couldn't reason with. They emerged, erect amongst the crowds, and the

detonations echoed across the rooftops, every ricochet driving madness into the souls for

whom there was now no turning back. Bullets sprayed in all directions, flames spurted

forth indiscriminately and explosives, arbitrary and evil, scattered amongst those whose

only priority was to flee.

It took her a moment to distinguish a single sound from the miserable cacophony.


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Finally, he gets a clear view of the bridge. His heart hammers at the sight. "Ystyria!" He

roars out, his voice lost in the crowd. Pulling his bow from around him he opens fire on

turret, not giving a damn if he hits someone that might jump in the way. Audowyn locks

onto his target and rushes forward, using her element of surprise and the fact that theturret was shooting at Deldrum to get up close and personal without being shot.

*****

It was fitting, perhaps, that the turret's lifespan was destined to be infinitely shorter than

those whose blood it sought. Several rounds was its capacity, several rounds of agony

and terror and defeat before it fell silent, a crippled mess, a bastardy of ingenious design

and rampant bloodlust. Most of the shots had thudded into concrete, into the retaining

wall that granted Salma a degree of privacy and, now, segregation, and into the gardens

and trees that lined the little bridge in this peaceful little part of town. Most of the shots

missed anything of importance.

Some of them did not.

Three wounds; shoulder, chest, pelvis. Like her impossibly dark eyes, it ran a shade of

purest midnight, tracks of indigo beneath her fashioned foliage creating, already, little

pools beneath her.

Those eyes, those impossible eyes, were not closed but rather stared upwards in pure

astonishment, slow blinks a sure indication of consciousness even though she was very

still. Her lips fall apart, her forehead creased with confusion and she whimpers, once, as

a child might at first realisation of pain.

*****

Once the turret fell, Deldrum ran to Ria's side, dropping down next to her as he assessed

her various wounds. He was no healer. Never had been. As he sat there beside her he

became lost. Lost on what he should do. Moving her seemed like a bad idea. Movement


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would surely cause more blood loss, not to mention the fighting and crowds that were

still around them. He did not carry medical supplies with him. He was lost. He was

scared. He was frantic.

His eyes moved from one wound to the next, to the next, until he finally sought Ria's

eyes. "Look at me." He placed a hand on the side of her face, trying to will her to look

at him. "Stay awake Ystyria. Whatever you do, you stay awake. Everything is going to be

okay. Somehow everything is going to be all right. Just look at me and listen to my

voice, everything will work out for the best I promise."

Audowyn stood nearby, fanning her feathers out and squawking at anyone that got too

close.

*****

"Why are they fighting?"

Ystyria's voice had always been perhaps, if not her indomitable spirit, her strongest asset.

Whether she was being crass or crazy, or just plain cynical, whether she was shouting or

singing or some bizarre hybrid of both, her voice held a lustrous quality that drew

people to her. She was always one step away from teasing or terrorising, taunting or

tantalising, and if you caught her in the right moment, in the right mood, with the right

ambiance, she could make you feel like the most important person in all of creation just

by speaking your name. She could talk the stars into shining, a particularly amorous

spectator had once declared, and though the look he'd received had promptly lead the

frantic guy to deduce that she could probably also conjure up a few other things if he

tried to flatter her again, the fact remained that Ystyria could captivate a room with the

simplest of saucy tales.

Not now.


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Deldrum calls Audowyn over.

"Audowyn, I need you to go to the house. Find the salve that we used on Lily. Bring itback. It is probably in the kitchen. Do not fight unless you must. GO!" His words were

just as frantic as his attitude, rapidly fired out of his mouth in his urgency. He yelled the

final word, which got Audowyn running. She was a smart bird, a loyal defender and

good friend. He could count on her surely.

"It is going to be okay, Ystyria." He turns his eyes back onto hers, moving his hand down

to cradle her head.

*****

"It's so dark."

The childlike whimsy of her voice, marred only by the undercurrent of terror that seepedfrom every syllable, was almost lyrical and certainly nothing like that far more ribald

overtones the mysterious Sylvari usually preferred. Between them, they had next to no

idea of her age, no actual verification of her origin and scant information on anything

she had encountered save from very hazy recollections of recent times amongst the

Norn, but it had always been more-or-less a silent agreement that she was not a sapling.

She was too jaded, too wary, too tired. Though she couldn't recall it, Ystyria had clearly

seen far too much and carried it with her, wrapped up in a tight little package that

refused to be opened.

Now, for the first time, that certainty wavered. The shock on her face, in her eyes,

shivering throughout her entire body, seemed that of someone who had never

anticipated the world could be so fragile. Her lips, painted in her own sap, moved

tentatively, as if forming words required practise first. She was confused, lost, gazing at


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With his vigor renewed, hope shining on his face, he picks up the container and spreads

some of the salve on his fingers. "This may sting a little bit."

He doesn't care how badly it may sting, it is liable to save Ria's life, so he sets to workon her wounds right away.

*****

"It always does."

And again, she nearly remembered. All of it. On the cusp of death, a breath away from

her last, she nearly had it. It was slippery though, her life. Grasped between shaky

fingers, it slithered back into the darkness, hunkered down behind its battlements and

glared at her. Snippets escaped, little images, words, thoughts that she wasn't entirely

conscious of. It always does. This had happened before then?

She'd gone quiet. It was an eerie silence not marked so much by lack of speech but lack

of presence. Only the faintest movement of her chest confirmed she was still breathingand her eyes, half-lidded, now stared at a single fixed point on his face. Deathly still, she

wavered, on the brink, already shrouded by the Mist, and made not even a squeak of

protest as he administered her wounds. If anything, she barely seemed to notice.

Instead, after an eternity in which she paraded on death's door, Ystyria found the

strength to lift a hand to his face, a crooked finger catching a salty tear before it dripped

off his chin. Then, slowly and gently, that same finger ran up the contours of his jawline,

a fragile caress of comfort as if he was somehow the one most in need of it.

*****

The salve applied would take a few moments to take effect. Ystyria would still need the

bullets removed, which would mean a trip to the Grove nonetheless, but at least it

would stop the bleeding and numb the pain. If it did its job well enough it would keep


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Ria alive long enough for Deldrum to get her to the Grove.

By now the Seraph were in the district in mass quantities. The fighters were being

apprehended and broken up. This didn't stop everyone and there were still plenty offights were still going on but there was an end in sight.

Deldrum looks to Ria as her finger moves down his jaw. Her quiet demeanor did not

bold well. His worry returns. "Ystyria, you have to stay with me." His voice shakes, chin

quivering.

Del pulls her closer, cradling her against him. "Don't go! Please don't go." Slowly he

begins rocking back and forth, as if this alone will keep her alive. He is out of options,

all he can do is wait and see if the salve will be enough to keep her alive, enough to get

her to a Mender.

*****

The moment teetered, there on the very edge of oblivion. The damage was deep, after

all, the sap-loss had been swift. Perhaps more to the point, and far less tangible, was the

hint of defeat that always seemed to snare her when the charade faltered and Ystyria's

stars aligned for just a fraction, a blink, long enough to glimpse a hint of something at

the end of a very long tunnel. For one so prone to demanding everything from life, the

Sylvari sometimes, very occasionally, gave the impression that her fight was as much a

falsehood as her current identity. All bluster, no real substance. Too thin, too stretched-

out, too tired to hold on.

The hand that finds his back simply rests between his shoulder-blades a minute as if to

catch its strength. Then, in soothing strokes, it caresses him, slow circles from shoulder

the lower back as a mother might a distraught child.


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"Shhh."

A gentle platitude, maternal comfort.

"Don't be afraid. Everything has its time."

*****

At first the sound of Ria's voice startles Deldrum. So far lost as he was, he imagined he

was hearing things. When he realized he was not hearing things he pulled away from

her, staring at her with confusion... and hurt.

"Don't say that. You aren't going anywhere. It's not your time Ystyria! It's not, it can't

be."

He knew he was yelling at something that was completely out of her control. He knew

she would do everything in her power to stay alive, but sometimes willpower was notenough. Try as he might, Deldrum was returned to when he lost Amaryllis. Yes things

were different. His relationship with Amaryllis was much different than the one

blossoming with Ria. Amaryllis had also met her end without Del being there holding

onto her. He had felt her anguish though. Felt it as if it were his own anguish. Sylvari

and their damned empathy.

He was once again glad to be Soundless.

*****

She chuckled. That damnable woman, at world's end, had the audacity to find

amusement still. It was a gift, or madness, or both. The smile painted her features with a

serenity that left no room for the pain or confusion of earlier, however, and at least gave


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the illusion that these last words were not costing her too much.

"I've always been going somewhere, old man. It's not as easy as it sounds, sending out

roots, grounding oneself. The wind is always just that little bit too strong and you know,"she continues, with a tired huff, "it's always summer somewhere."

That seemed to take her somewhere for a moment, inside her own mind, a memory

perhaps or just a lingering sensation of warmth. Her lips twitch with fondness so,

whatever it is, it seems a comfort and that is something.

"Change...happens everywhere. The world we go to sleep in is not an exact replica of

the one we awake to the next morning. Things come and go, time passes. Life blossoms

and withers and it's okay." Her fingertips trace along the gnarled ridges of his cheek.

"We're never truly gone, the echos remain. New life grows in the soil we leave behind.

Little pieces of us, scattered across the world." She smiles. Despite the approach of her

twilight, she smiles. "Inside the people we love. Inside here."

Her hand drops from his face so that she can slowly, with effort, poke her finger at his

chest.

"You smother the leaves too much, and remain in the shade far too long. It's there, that

little bud of life she gave you, but you're not a very good gardener."

She laughs again but this time, it leads to coughing, spluttering, struggling. Her next

breath rattles in her chest.

"Follow summer, old man. Winter's had you long enough."

And, like a candle snuffed out in the wind, she is gone. Extinguished. Her body melts


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into blessed release and she lays limp, her eyelids drooping until, with one final flutter,

the aperture closes and the story comes to an end, an empty reel flapping in the wind.

*****

And just like that she was gone. Deldrum knew it even without having the empathic

connection being suddenly cut. He didn't have to be an empath to know when someone

stopped breathing.

He had hung to her words, every single one of them. They didn't make sense to him, but

he listened.

Follow summer. Summer was gone. He felt lost, empty. His frantic cries rack his body as

he scoops her up, hugging her tightly to himself. It was a pain he had wished to never

feel again, and it wasn't even the same pain he had felt with Amaryllis, but it was close

enough. It was a twinge of a memory. Given more time with Ystyria and having

accepted her, fallen in love with her, then this pain would have been exactly like howhe felt with Amaryllis. He knew this, and it made him cry harder.

He felt as if life had given him something. It had given him someone to bring him out of

the darkness and back out into the harsh and blinding sunlight. He was finally starting to

live again. He was starting to be happy and not just content. He knew feelings for Ria

were starting to take shape. He was learning to accept them.

Now all of that was gone. He can feel himself retreating back into his solitude.

Above his sorrows he feels rage. So much anger at the all of the idiots in Salma. All of

them. Everyone that had been fighting. They had caused Ria's death.


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His emotions bounce back and forth between anger and depression until he finally just

yells. A yell full of everything he is feeling. Harsh and hollow.

*****

A new dawn is a tentative thing. Beautiful, fragile, timid. As the first rays of sunlight spill

over the hilltops, it is the darkness that seems the most craven, clinging to every sculpted

curve and scurrying away towards shaded havens, lingering, unwilling to leave. Darkness

lurks, finds crevasses and forgotten recesses and it waits, poised for glorious, triumphant

return.

The golden sunrise never seems to mind. Its warm caress turns petals upwards, unfurls

buds and ushers in the gentle buzz, a steady hum, of life and vitality and hope. The

darkness hates the dawn but the dawn never minds. It comes anyway.

It takes its time though. The first glow is so subdued it could almost be mistaken for a

streetlight's intrusion or a trick of glistening eyes. Its slow crescendo, a throbbing pulseas if mirroring a heartbeat, takes its time in being noticed, it isn't concerned with

flamboyancy, only accuracy. Tiny droplets, salted, reflect against the darkened skin

where they've fallen, a taste of his sorrow against her cold skin. Golden tears. Little stars.

There is no specific time when the air around them feels lighter than before, warmer,

more fragrant. There is no particular time when the radiance ceases to be a hopeless

fantasy and reveals itself as a living, breathing thing, of swirling tendrils and ribbons of

sparkling sunbeam. There is no definitive time when it became clear that something was

happening, in the darkness, something so very opposite to the lifelessness of defeat that

one might be forgiven for fearing its deceit. This was not the result of a moment but of a

lifetime, swirling and coiling and filling the air with the sweet scent of renewal.

And she is aglow, so bright that her features are almost indistinguishable. The halo wraps


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around her until she is surrounded, bathed in promise of a new dawn. Follow summer,

she had said.

Sometimes you had to create your own.

*****

Once Deldrum finally does take notice to everything going on with Ria he is rightfully

distressed. A tad bit frightened too. As much as he entertains the thought of moving

away, running away, he stays. Mouth hanging open in awe and fear. He hasn't the

slightest clue what is going on, but it is obvious something is happening. And while it

doesn't look dark and eerie, does not mean it isn't dangerous. He remains there, right

beside her, watching and waiting.

Audowyn, for her part, stays near Deldrum for the first small bit. However she doesn't

stay there, moving off to what she feels is a safe distance.

Deldrum's tears stop, his anguish put on hold for his surprise and curiosity.

*****

In the end, it is such a little display for such an enormous thing, but then, it usually was.

The renewal of Spring, that glorious season of rebirth, painted its triumph in rich colours

and textures and sung victory from the treetops in cacophonous glee, but it was not

something that tended to capture immediate intention. Rather, it seeped in, reclaimed

the land and brought with it the hope and promise of a fresh start. You didn't see it,

you felt it, in your bones. In your roots.


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Her features were darkening, however, as if forever tinged by the narrow line she had

just walked. Vibrant blue had muted to a rich teal, foliage curling and redefining and

elongating just enough that the minute little Sylvari might finally have achieved an extra

inch towards the several she required to be able to see in a crowd. Her face too seemsto reevaluate itself, flattening a little, a more slender and sleek line than the cherubic

plumpness now abandoned. Little changes, new imperfections, the same but utterly

different. Youth struggled with maturity, settling on a rich blend of both, and with the

finest of details, the gentlest of touches, the solid, rosebud beauty became something

sleek and delicate, feminine in the face, no doubt, of great opposition. ("Dress? Why

would I wear a dress? You can't fight properly in a damn dress and then people look at

your legs instead of your face.")

And finally, she exhaled, a final surrender of golden iridescence, floating upwards until

the warmth touched his face and reassured him that it was real. The intense light faded

and, in its wake, deposited into his trembling arms its newest creation. Warm, tangible

and so very alive.

*****

To say that Deldrum was shocked was an understatement. He had never seen such a

thing happen before. He had never heard of Sylvari being able to do what just

happened. Amaryllis certainly hadn't had this happen to her once he found her body.

He didn't even really know what had happened. He was still stuck in confusion and

angst land. His sorrows were still being left on hold until he was able to figure out just

what in the world was going on. He could not shed tears if something had saved Ria. He

could not be sad if she had somehow survived, changed and survived.

Gently he places her down on the ground, watching and waiting once more. He grasps


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one of her hands in his own, holding to it tightly. "Please." His voice barely sparks out

above a whisper, but the pleading nature of it is not lost in the slightest.

*****

She could have slept for a thousand more sunsets. At her very core, towards the vibrant

spark that carried every unique nuance, Ystyria was exhausted. Her body ached, her

mind throbbed and something less tangible but altogether more defining was screaming

in anguish and terror and pain. Birth had its ugly side no matter how many times you

went through it and a death was a death. It kind of...shook you up.

And though it wasn't quite the squawk of a fledgling or the mewl of a wet kitten or the

howl of a naked, angry newborn scrunching its face up at the world, there was as much

promise in her short gasp as anyone could hope for and her eyes, those dark,

impenetrable, impossible eyes fly open the instant her realisation catches up with reality.

Alive. Not dead. Warm. Not cold. Lost.

Okay, so she was still lost.

A panicked scan of her immediate surroundings tells her nothing helpful. The air stinks

of acrid smoke and blood. Voices lift in anger and defeat and sorrow. Pain. So much

of it. Her chest is on fire. The body remembers. Eventually it fades and you learn how

to forget again, but in the beginning, it's all right there. Right on the surface. Pushing

you under.

A strangled cry catches in her throat as her mind floods with memories, moving at a

pace too hard to keep up with it. Too many sights, too many sounds, too much

emotion. The loss. The mistakes. The heartache. Too many lifetimes' worth. Her

body stiffens and shakes, her lips part in an anguished sob. Too much to hold. Too

much to keep.


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*****

By all of the pale trees in the world, how was this even possible? That was Deldrum'sfirst thought upon hearing the gasp of breath from Ria.

His shock quickly fades and is replaced by the all too familiar need to protect her.

Obviously distraught, he tries to calm her.

"Ystyria? It-it's okay." He doesn't even know what is going on. She had changed but she

was alive. Or so he thought. Perhaps a ghost had taken her body and she was not

Ystyria at all. He hoped that wasn't it.

He leans forward, looking into the eyes he thought would be forever closed to him. He

has so many questions, but knows it isn't the time to ask them. He places his free hand,

the one not holding hers, on her cheek. Warmth. Not the coldness that would have

eventually seeped into her dead skin. He can hardly believe it. He fights back all of hisemotions, trying to look at it from a logical and rational point of view first.

He wants to cry, to leap for joy, to still be angry at the idiots rioting in the streets. He

doesnt . He keeps them all back. For now.

*****

Someone was talking.

When the world was new and old all in the same breath, details were often hard to

make out. Though he was the closest thing to her, he was the last she chose to focus on

and seemed, for a moment, to struggle with it. Like a newborn adjusting to proximity,

her eyelashes flutter, her pupils dilate and retract as if seeking a point at which the


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blurriness might recede and then she squints, shying away for a moment as if the task is

just too painful.

Then she tries again.

He looked...familiar. It seemed as much anyway, it was hard to tell. She couldn't

properly make out his face but he smelt like a recollection, something out of all the

demands that deserved to be remembered. Her mouth falls open, cracked lips working

at forming words she couldn't be entirely sure how to slot together and she swallows,

her terror still palpable.

"Warmer."

No, that wasn't it. Her brow furrows again with concentration, scurrying around after

the elusive word that she so desperately needed.

"W...w..."

It was the right sound. Slowly, she was beginning to visualise it too, a tiny sliver of

information falling into place to support the necessity of her craving.

"W...wa...wa..ter. Need. Waa...ter."

*****

Water. Yes, this is something that someone who just died and was... reborn?... asked for.

Right? Deldrum didn't know, nor did he care if it was normal. Her voice was like music

to his ears. He looks up, surveying the riot, glad to see that it had died down even more

since Ria's transformation. Chances were good that he could make it home, especially

since most of the fighting was going on away from his home.


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Good thing of having chosen a home so close to the gates. The Seraph got the front of

the district cleared first.

Placing a hand under her shoulder and the other under her knees he gets slowly to his

feet, still kneeling as he lifts her up.

"Water it is then." Once he has her lifted up he stands up, working to carry her back to

his little house. Audowyn follows behind the pair.

*****

Being moved hurt more than it should, if only because there were no injuries left to

attribute the phantom agony to. The body remembered, at least for a while, and death

had a tendency to linger even after it had been made perfectly clear it was no longer

welcome.

She sucked the air through her teeth, however, and endured. He felt strong, which was

reassuring, steady and solid. He moved surprisingly gracefully too or at least the journey

in his arms didn't feel overridden with jolts and jostles. It didn't keep her from

whimpering, once or twice, but that was hardly his fault and couldn't be thought to be.

Life was a big thing to unravel all at once.

The scene around them made no sense to Ystyria as she couldn't see much of anything,

enfolded against him as she was. As his body shielded her eyes, his steady heartbeat

protected her mind and gave her something to focus on besides the anguished wails of

children in the distance. The only indication that they are inside is the change in

lighting and the slight drop in ambient temperature but it is a relief, the heightened

peacefulness of it. She whimpers again, this time in relief.


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*****

Once inside the house, Del gently places Ria down on the single couch in the living

room/kitchen combo. Kneeling in front of her, he offers a warm smile, albeit a wearyone.

"I am going to get you some water. Just try and relax."

He returns a few moments later with a mug of water in his hands. He is still

apprehensive and confused, so confused. He can only hope that answers come swiftly,

for he does not know how much more confusion and shock he can handle in one night.

*****

It was easier to focus, here, on the couch shed still been asleep on only an hour ago.

How fast the world moved. There wasn't much to see by most standards but to these

new eyes, impossible eyes, everything seemed fascinating. The cobwebs in the corner,she could remember what they were. The curve of the ceiling as it angled down the

slope. The light fixture, such a mundane thing and yet it was another tiny piece of the

puzzle, just another success in the match-it-up marathon that her mind was currently

trying to keep up with. Remembering it all.

These first moments were important.

And painful. The first stab has her clutching at the cushions. The second has her crying

feebly in protest. Too much to recall, too much to sequence. It was like trying to catch

every grain of sand dumped from a bucket before it hit the ground; you couldn't do it.

Parts of her were slipping away, memories she couldn't prioritise. It hurt. Oh, how it

hurt.


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*****

Deldrum halts in front of her, water still in his hand. Kneeling down in front of her once

more he offers her the water.

He doesn't know why she is crying, though really he had a few guesses. He tries once

again to communicate with her, this time trying to get to the bottom of it all.

"Ystyria, I need to know what just happened. I am very confused and a good deal lost.

I... are you still you? You look different, you... are you Ystyria? Do you know me? It's

me Deldrum, I-I tried to help you...I... I am sorry."

He silences himself, realizing he was rambling and possibly asking too many questions.

*****

"Hmn."

It was the tiniest little laugh, barely even counted as one really. And he was lucky, or

she was lucky, or they both were because, oh how blissfully close she could have been

to a clean slate. It was unpredictable, what you kept and what was lost. The mind

could only hold so much and some things... Well, some things it was only too willing

to cast aside.

But life didn't work neatly in that sense. Often the things you lost were the things you

treasured most. Too much invested, perhaps, too many little pieces to try and

reassemble when the jigsaw was complicated. Smaller things were easier; the taste of

fresh apples, the pleasure of a long bath, the joke about the Charr and the spirit guide.

Tiny fragments, easily salvaged. But emotions; those were hard. Relationships; harder


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still. And she had remembered them all, simultaneously, when the bucket had first been

emptied, but she was losing it. Losing them all.

Except him. A question at the right time, something to focus on, a request even. Knowit's me. It gave her something to sort for, something to prioritise. The water was

helping, couldn't nourish new growth without it. And he was there, closeby, one of the

recent ones. Easier to access. Her grimace betrays the effort but she tries.

And then smiles, exhausted.

"Never...thought...I'd hear you...say that."

*****

Deldrum's brows crease, knitted together so closely they almost looked comical. "Say

what?" He ask the first question that comes to mind, not caring that she didn't exactly

answer his question.

The sole fact that she said never and you in the same sentence showed Del that she at

least knew who he was. It was a start. It was something to be happy about, something

that made Deldrum hope.

Hope was all that was guiding him right now, well that and getting answers to the

miracle he had just witnessed. Miracle. Felt weird to think of it that way. Miracles

generally implied religion, which Deldrum lacked. He didn't know what other word he

could possibly use to describe what he had seen though.

He remains on the ground in front of her, hands on either side of her, resting on the

couch. There was hope.


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*****

"Apologising."

It took her a moment to continue, gripped again by a spasm of pain as another trickle of

recollection scattered across her mind. Dancing? Why was that important? As soon as

it occurred to her, the moment slipped away and, with effort, Ystyria focuses on the

worried eyes gazing down at her and attempts to keep her thoughts in one place, in one

direction.

"Feels different...this time." Lengthy pauses punctuate her explanation; just speaking

takes its toll. "Less...chaotic. Can even remember it is a 'this time'. Forgot."

Like a frail old lady, the Sylvari attempts to push herself up a little, off her back so that

the arm of the couch props her up. The effort costs her but the position is more

comfortable, a worthy price.

"There's a lot...in..." She taps her head rather than search fruitlessly for the word that

wouldn't come. "All jumbled up. Didn't really die, don't think. More...sort

of...changed. Remade." She grimaces, frustrated with her inelegant language choices.

"Re...newal. The body remembers. Just...sheds the dead-weight."

*****

Deldrum seems okay with the news he receives, half way anyways. He doesn't freak out,

he doesn't ponder on the how. It had happened, he knew that much, he had witnessed

it. It didn't matter how it had happened, just that it did. He doesn't question this. He

accepts it.

Worry. He feels it creeping in with her words. Changed . Yes, he had seen her physical


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"I wouldn't want you to forget me, nor would I want to be let off..." Del let's the

sentence drag off into silence without ever really finishing it. He figures his words get

their point across well enough. It is the best he can do.

Looking down at her hand clutching his, he smiles, albeit a small smile, he does smile. "I

am glad you are going to be okay. Mostly."

*****

"Never said that."

There was a glimpse, in her tone, of an old wryness, a teasing quality laced between the

cobwebs of fatigue and confusion. Her sense of humour was such a vibrant part of her

that it seemed likely, or at least hopeful, that it remained too central to suffer a culling.

Always a ready quip, that lightning-quick reaction time that never missed a beat. It had

become a bit of a defense mechanism but perhaps she was entitled. Humour kept yousane.

With another soft chuckle, she shifts and sighs a little at the discomfort, still trying to find

a position that would allow her to rest, to recuperate.

"Can't imagine I've ever been okay. Sounds like..." She pauses, groaning as she eases

herself onto her side, her hand still resolutely clutching his. "...too much work."

*****

"Okay then I will change my words. I am glad you are still alive. I was... I... I can't

imagine not having you around Ystyria. I guess you have grown on me." Apparently this

was the best Deldrum could muster up in the way of mushy feelings.


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In truth he was ecstatic to hear her voice, feel her hand wrapped around his. It was

another chance. Another shot. It would still take time for Deldrum to fully open up, but

he knew he would get there eventually, and he wouldn't take a single day for granted.Every day with Ystyria would be special from now on. Nothing shows you how special

life is until you almost lose it.

*****

"Don't get too soft on me, old man."

And that was the last of it, the last of her reserves. Death took it out of you; funny that.

With the very final sliver of energy she has, the tiniest fragment, she scoots over as far as

she can get, smushed in against the back of the couch, and tugs on the hand now

stretched behind her in order to keep holding his.

"Stay with me."

It was the little differences that surfaced first. The old Ystyria pushed people away, using

humour as a shield. Feigning confidence, disguising it as bravado, and then curling up at

the end of a day in the solitude of her own, dark thoughts. Affection? Sometimes. At a

price.

This was simple, a sweet request not to be left alone. An acknowledgement that he

could, if she let him, if he let himself , provide comfort and guidance and be that little

pinprick of light at the end of the long tunnel she still had to conquer. It was a little

difference, but it was a start.

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While You Were Gone