-
The Oathbreaker
He ran as far as he could run before his legs gave out and he collapsed beneath a Panpol tree. Callida never lost pace. She had always been athletic, as long as he had known her, far more than he. She slowed, staring intently as she made her approach. He hated that stare, those lustrous, green eyes. he hated the way her hair moved with the wind, covering her eyes, strands of it coming to rest on her lips. He hated her LIPS, those things she used to lie and make him feel welcome and safe. He hated the anguish he saw upon her face. What right did she have to feel such an emotion? Her reaction to his secret had hurt most of all. They stared at each other for a long time, Larkin breathing raggedly, chest heaving, and Callida hardly breathing at all, almost perfect in her stillness. He spoke first.
“You cast me out. All of you. Like I meant nothing.”“Larkin…” she started.
“Don’t say my name. I cannot stand the sound of it on your tongue.”
Callida stopped and her hand twitched. He thought she meant to smack him, but had he been able to see past his pain, he would have known her first instinct was to touch his sharp, brown and beaten face, to kiss his full lips. She began to speak again, this time coating her voice with the intense love she felt for her friend and brother-in-arms against the encroaching darkness.
“Do you mean to leave us forever? What about your ideals? What about us?” She paused for a moment. “What about me?”“FUCK ideals. And justice. Fuck comeraderie, too. WHERE IS MY JUSTICE? WHERE ARE MY BROTHERS? GONE. Just like you will be too, one day. So what’s the point in loving you, friend? Nothing has hurt me worse than the sting of love for those who would discard me as easily as they discard garbage and I won’t be hurt again. Not again.” Larkin was shouting at the top of his lungs. Pain simmered in the back of his throat and tears stung his eyes, tears that pulsated with the pain of everyone he’d ever loved and lost. He could barely see where he was stepping. He felt despair the likes of which he had never felt before, not even after learning that he was once again alone in the world, the last of his kind. For if his friends could abandon him, what hope was there? He was hurt beyond words, hurt beyond a capacity he could stand or even understand.
“Larkin, please. We were wrong. Please, just come back. We need you; we don’t care what you are,” Callida pleaded. Her words were genuine and Larkin could sense the love and sorrow behind them. But he wanted to make her hurt, too. Sorrow was not enough. He wanted to make all of them hurt, feel the pain he was feeling. He wanted to see if they would crumble beneath its unbearable weight like he was now doing.
“I was counsel to all of you. But you never listened to me when I needed it most. The forest listens. It hears me. And it whispers to me, too. I want to hurt it,” he growled, continuing to speak as if he couldn’t hear the red-headed princess, “because I can’t hurt you.”
Callida’s eyes narrowed.
“You don’t mean that,” she said sternly.“Don’t I?” he barked.
The heart-broken druid looked around, surveying the lush forest and its umbrella-like canopies. He closed his eyes. He was perfectly in tune with it, for he had contracted its maester long ago. He knew its secrets, its songs, and what magic lay within each and every leaf on every single tree. He raised his staff. A few yards away, he could sense the heartbeats of a family of rabbits; he could hear the skittering of insects beneath his feet and worms below the very ground they stood upon. He could feel the winds beneath the wings of the birds of the sky as if they were his own. Yes, he could feel the harmony of the forest and the love that permeated it. It seeped into him, too, calming him, settling his blood.
No, that wouldn’t do. He wanted to hold onto the anger. It was time to kill it. He slammed the staff into the dirt and uttered an oath pained and guttural. It broke through his pores and flowed down his arms, and legs, seeping into the ground, the magic. For a moment, all was quiet and Callida’s racing heart stilled as suddenly as the air surrounding them.
Then the forest screamed.
The Oathbreaker
After being confronted by the Celestials for being a fraud, despite having the best intentions in tricking them and everyone else, Larkin flees to a nearby forest, heartbroken over what he perceives to be his friends having turned against him.
Their reaction to the discovery that Larkin is not a celestial by blood.
He ran as far as he could run before his legs gave out and he collapsed beneath a Panpol tree. Callida never lost pace. She had always been athletic, as long as he had known her, far more than he. She slowed, staring intently as she made her approach. He hated that stare, those lustrous, green eyes. he hated the way her hair moved with the wind, covering her eyes, strands of it coming to rest on her lips. He hated her LIPS, those things she used to lie and make him feel welcome and safe. He hated the anguish he saw upon her face. What right did she have to feel such an emotion? Her reaction to his secret had hurt most of all. They stared at each other for a long time, Larkin breathing raggedly, chest heaving, and Callida hardly breathing at all, almost perfect in her stillness. He spoke first.
“You cast me out. All of you. Like I meant nothing.”
“Larkin…” she started.
“Don’t say my name. I cannot stand the sound of it on your tongue.”
Callida stopped and her hand twitched. He thought she meant to smack him, but had he been able to see past his pain, he would have known her first instinct was to touch his sharp, brown and beaten face, to kiss his full lips. She began to speak again, this time coating her voice with the intense love she felt for her friend and brother-in-arms against the encroaching darkness.
“Do you mean to leave us forever? What about your ideals? What about us?” She paused for a moment. “What about me?”
“FUCK ideals. And justice. Fuck comeraderie, too. WHERE IS MY JUSTICE? WHERE ARE MY BROTHERS? GONE. Just like you will be too, one day. So what’s the point in loving you, friend? Nothing has hurt me worse than the sting of love for those who would discard me as easily as they discard garbage and I won’t be hurt again. Not again.” Larkin was shouting at the top of his lungs. Pain simmered in the back of his throat and tears stung his eyes, tears that pulsated with the pain of everyone he’d ever loved and lost. He could barely see where he was stepping. He felt despair the likes of which he had never felt before, not even after learning that he was once again alone in the world, the last of his kind. For if his friends could abandon him, what hope was there? He was hurt beyond words, hurt beyond a capacity he could stand or even understand.
“Larkin, please. We were wrong. Please, just come back. We need you; we don’t care what you are,” Callida pleaded. Her words were genuine and Larkin could sense the love and sorrow behind them. But he wanted to make her hurt, too. Sorrow was not enough. He wanted to make all of them hurt, feel the pain he was feeling. He wanted to see if they would crumble beneath its unbearable weight like he was now doing.
“I was counsel to all of you. But you never listened to me when I needed it most. The forest listens. It hears me. And it whispers to me, too. I want to hurt it,” he growled, continuing to speak as if he couldn’t hear the red-headed princess, “because I can’t hurt you.”
Callida’s eyes narrowed.
“You don’t mean that,” she said sternly.
“Don’t I?” he barked.
The heart-broken druid looked around, surveying the lush forest and its umbrella-like canopies. He closed his eyes. He was perfectly in tune with it, for he had contracted its maester long ago. He knew its secrets, its songs, and what magic lay within each and every leaf on every single tree. He raised his staff. A few yards away, he could sense the heartbeats of a family of rabbits; he could hear the skittering of insects beneath his feet and worms below the very ground they stood upon. He could feel the winds beneath the wings of the birds of the sky as if they were his own. Yes, he could feel the harmony of the forest and the love that permeated it. It seeped into him, too, calming him, settling his blood.
No, that wouldn’t do. He wanted to hold onto the anger. It was time to kill it. He slammed the staff into the dirt and uttered an oath pained and guttural. It broke through his pores and flowed down his arms, and legs, seeping into the ground, the magic. For a moment, all was quiet and Callida’s racing heart stilled as suddenly as the air surrounding them.
Then the forest screamed.
Heart-broken, Larkin separates himself from the rest of the celestials.