The Parting Stalac

Word Count: 1066 Average Read Time: 5:20 Time Finished: Evening of the Eighth day, pre-supper, after lots of deliberation

The birthing had been harder on Mhrnsh than he’d thought it would be.

Purposefully expelling himself at the triumphant end of the long ceremony had been a very troubling thing for him to do, but also something very necessary. He might have ruined the moment by staying: his utterly selfish feelings dominating his mind which would- and should- have been focused on the miracle which had just occurred for his friends, Shnndr and Kshtk.

Mhrnsh thought his friends would understand. Perhaps not immediately, but certainly as time would pass. But that was the last thing on his mind right now.

He rushed to his partner. They had something of great importance to discuss.

What he had just experienced helped him to make a decision he had been wrestling with for the last long while, since their last failed birth together. There was no denying, to Mhrnsh, that the troubles the Stalac had with the miracle of birthing were somehow related to the great quakes which had been happening for the last few years. Ever since the first one, which had happened shortly after Mhrnsh was finally considered to be of age, there had been difficulties… and with each passing quake, the difficulties seemed more apparent to him.

No one knew what was causing these disturbances. No one had cared to find out, because to do so would mean leaving the safety of the caves which the Stalac spent their entire lives in. No one had been damaged, or Crumbled, because of the quakes. It was a minor annoyance that most around him simply attributed to the ever-deeper tunnels they were digging. It was easier that way.

But Mhrnsh knew the answer was out there. And this past experience helped him resolve to find it himself.

His partner, Shhkt, had some reservations, of course. He was very much a Stalac, in very many ways. One which often came up in this conversation was “Staying in the Caves.” It was rumored that many bad things had happened to those who had left the caves, for whatever reason. Dusting Stones, the worst punishment that could befall one of their own was to be driven from the caves and forced to spend the rest of their years on the surface. Going out there was akin to asking to Crumble, to be unmade.

Mhrnsh was going to leave this place. But he first needed to convince Shhkt.

Opening the door they’d carved themselves out of a mightily large piece of Shale, Mhrnsh burst into their house. There was Shhkt, sitting in the living area, softly glowing in the soft glow of their Crystal. He noticed Mhrnsh almost immediately.

“Welcome back, Mhrnsh. Did Kshtk and Shnndr’s birthing end in tears, or in light?”

Shhkt’s voice was immediately soothing to the still very startled and emotional Mhrnsh. He lost all thought, and immediately went to join with Shhkt. Joining was faster than talking, after all. At least when it came to emotions.

They Joined quickly, touching heads and gazing deeply into each other’s eyes. In his mind, Mhrnsh could see exactly how Shhkt was feeling at that moment: The hopeful thoughts he had concerning their friends’ Birthing, the worries he had about their own, the concerns he felt when Mhrnsh walked in unlit. And, of course, Shhkt could see all of Mhrnsh’s feelings. Including his resolve to find what was preventing them from successfully having a child.

Their Joining broke as quickly as it had formed.

“Oh, my Opal, please say I might convince You to stay,” said the voice of the only Stalac who had always been there for him. “I do not want to lose You to Your travels.” Shhkt spoke with the tiniest hint of yellow glow showing from his chest… and and accompanying bit of fear tinting his voice.

Mhrnsh, however, was inconsolable. “To have to go through what we have gone through, when our bond is just as strong as the one which Shnndr and Kshkt share, is something which I cannot allow to befall us any longer.” His voice did not tremble, but it did waver… or perhaps falter, as he had been doing so much as of late. “I do not want to leave You, or the caves. And I certainly do not want to be lost to skies… But I cannot continue on like this. It is crumbling me with every passing day. And I know it has not been easy on You, either, Shhkt.”

Shhkt started to object, but caught himself. Taking a moment to think things through, he calmly said, “Yes, these years have been hard. Ever since the brittling quakes, things seem to have been getting worse. But losing You would be too much to bear.” Shhkt took a step back, and looked away. “I was so sure the last Birthing would work. We did everything right, cut every edge so perfectly. He would have been such a wonderful child, to carry on after we begin to crumble away.”

Looking back at Mhrnsh, he then said, “But having You there was what got me through that. I would have fallen apart if it weren’t for You. I couldn’t have borne that third failure if it were with anyone else.” Shhkt implored, “Is there no other way? Something else we could try, before casting You off to the damnable skies?”

Mhrnsh looked into the eyes of the one he cared so deeply for, and they both knew the answer. It only fell to him to say it.

“We’ve tried everything we could think of. This is all that is left, my Stone.”

That simple word of affection now felt as though it weighed two tons, dropped upon the feelings currently flowing through Shhkt. He flared Yellow, and the Deeply Translucent blue of sorrow, casting sea green light which both reflected and emanated from Mhrnsh as well. They both saw the sincerity of each other’s emotions, and then, Shhkt took his partner in a (very rare for the Stalac) embrace.

“Stay tonight, then. Leave after one more recess together. It will have to last us quite a long time.” That was very true, and they both knew it. It was common knowledge that few Stalac who left would ever return to the caves. It may well be their last evening together.

Mhrnsh would make sure it was one they would not soon forget.

The Present Ängsälvor

Word Count: 920 Average Read Time: 4:36 Time Finished: Supper of the Seventh Day.

Tylendore had been floating out over the lake for an hour or so, now.

His tears had long since run dry, unlike the rain which still fell through him. The incident had begun to percolate in his mind as the memories began to overtake his shock and indignation. He was as desperate now as he was 3 years ago to come up with some sort of solution… but they don’t exactly make gloves for Your cheeks.

At least not gloves You could wear every day.

For most Ängsälvor, being touched was something which only bothered them during puberty, as the sensation might send them into a gaseous form every once in a while. It was a minor inconvenience then, as there was no fear involved, and it was well understood that this was simply a thing which happened to young Ängsälvor.

But for Tylendore, being touched had bothered him since he was out of his mother’s arms. It felt like an invasion of privacy, a dirty little reaping of his personal space and security. He had never been comfortable when others had made physical contact with him, whether it was a shoulder pat or a hand shake… Or a touch on the cheek.

And puberty had only made his discomfort worse.

It took his panicked, frenzied reaction to those innocently guilty touches and turned it outward, forcing him to share that feeling with the world in a way that the world could never understand. The Ängsälvor could barely understand it, and when he left puberty they could understand it even less so, with claims that he was perhaps, “Still growing,” or, “Not quite there yet.”

It took two very painful years for Tylendore to decide for himself that they were wrong. And then, in a foolish and youthful haze, he had decided to cut all ties for a while. Perhaps the Solid would be more understanding.

They were not.

But now, he had to get home. He needed to wash himself, to wash away the lingering emotions clinging to him like the fog cloud he now was. Deciding this, he drifted towards the bank of the lake, towards the highway which had been the site of his most recent incident.

And then, he noticed something weird: There was a four-horse carraige on the road. It had not been there a few moments ago: If Tylendore hadn’t noticed himself, he would easily be able to tell by the portal which had opened about three feet off of the ground, and was still swirling slightly in the sunless sky. It had been teleported here by some kind of magic.

And there was a girl in the road, facing the opposite direction.

Making a loud noise in the form of the cloud is not easy. Far more easy was it to create a stiff wind, or a gust which could easily allow birds to drift off. Noises were nearly impossible: With no body to use as a noisemaker, what noise was there for the wind to carry?

Though this did not stop Tylendore from trying. He sent wind after wind after the girl, trying to help her notice what was about to befall her. He continued, as fast as a cloud conceivably could, anyway, to drift towards the shore. Almost there. Just a bit more.

But, then, so was the carriage.

To her credit, the little girl noticed what was going on. She spun around to face the horse which knocked her to the ground. And then, as the carraige passed, it drove over… a small bump in the road.

He was at the shore now, and quickly tried to change back. It took him a few minutes; changing from one form to another (except when propelled by something extremely life threatening or shocking, like his fear of being touched) was a process to be worked up to, not a simple choice. By the time he was solid again, the carriage was long gone, and the girl was crying loudly…

And holding something close to her chest…? Was it crushed in the accident? Perhaps it was special to her, or something she had been given by someone close to her. Wanting to find out if that was the only thing damaged in the accident, Tylendore stepped forward… but stopped short in a moment of pause.

This had been an obviously traumatic experience for the woman, and he did not want to force his way into the situation… Bothering her with his interest when she had already been through so much that day might be seen as offensive. Tylendore had certainly felt that way at times, particularly after being hit or touched. A stranger’s care could easily be almost as bad as the event itself… but he had seen the whole thing.

She was heading away, now. Presumably to her home. He had to make a decision, and quick, or it would be too late to help her at all. He resolved to inquire after her well being, and to do so as politely as he possibly could. She might want the details of the car that hit her, after all. And there was- oddly- no one else around at the time.

And so, Tylendore shortly found himself on the steps of Tale’s house. There was no knocker on the door… and no handle. Well, it’s still polite to request entry, even when not forced to do so.

And he knocked. Bang Bang Bang.

The Broken Kaolin

Word Count: 1024 Average Read Time: 5:08 Time Finished: Early Morning on Sixth Day, Post Writer’s Block

A small benefit of the Kaolin being so fragile was how quickly physical pain passed.

Tale lay in the middle of the road, half embedded in the mud beneath her. There was no pain anymore, that had lasted until she’d passed out. When she woke, she felt fine… though she had not yet worked up the courage to actually move her body and inspect the damage. To do so, she would have acknowledge the extent to which she’d have to be fixed up.

What happened? Who did this to me?

These were the thoughts she let dominate her mind instead. All she knew for sure was a horse had knocked her on her back, and then there was a share pain in her upper arm, near her shoulder. She listened carefully, holding her breath, to check her surroundings.

There was no horse nearby. They must have left.

Enough, then, Tale told herself, as she reached back with her arms to push herself up out of the muddy road. If another cart comes, they might see me even less, lying in the road like this. She felt her left hand sink into the mud, but could not feel her right…

And she toppled over as she pushed with all of her strength. In front of her face, just a few feet away, was her right arm: Dainty fingers and all, but no longer hers, as she could not feel it. She could feel the joy drain from her face and chest as she realized her plight.

Full breaks happened, from time to time, among the Kaolin. They were certainly not common, though, and no one Tale knew had ever suffered through one. Her left hand shot to where her right shoulder… And felt the hard, gritty surface left by such an ordeal as a broken limb.

She began to sob.

Retrieving the arm now separated from its proper place, she pushed herself up with just her left side. With as much grace as she could manage, she held it to her in the truest of sorrows.

Fixing this kind of damage required money. Money to pay the Kaolin Forger to work on her, and even find one who could do so. Money to live off of without a second arm, as she could certainly not serve others now. And most of all, money to buy all of the expensive supplies she needed to use in her recovery process, lest the joint become brittle… and break again.

This accident, this beautiful raining morning, would serve to dictate the events for the rest of Tale’s year, perhaps even the rest of her life. After all, she was Kaolin, not a simple doll or statue: Kaolin were alive. And if her arm was further damaged, or lost… well, she mustn’t think about that. She simply needed to get it fixed.

Fantas was her home, but it held little hope for her now, unless she wanted to take to the streets and beg. She would have to find some way to gain the coin she needed. Perhaps she could plead with her Kilnmates, who lived 3 weeks South in the village of Caron.

She began to walk back to her house, to clean herself up and gather some things. They had not spoken in many years, but she felt as though she had no other choice but to ask for help. If she had an address… and an arm… she might have written them, to have expedited the process. But instead, she resigned herself to travel South, to regain that which had been taken from her.

She held her arm tight; it was the most important thing she owned, now.

Much more important than her collection of scarves, though that had also been damaged in the accident. She could easily see that her favorite one, the yellow one with the pattern on the end, could no longer be called a part of that illustrious group. Though… the stained and dirty length of fabric might still have a use, so long as she could make it home.

Which happened without much event. A small pleasure she was everlessly thankful for.

She modified her ruined scarf to hold her arm securly and tightly on her back. She tested it (with a large, heavy tuber in place of her arm) in various ways: Jumps, falls, lunges, and the like. After an hour of tweaking, she was satisfied that it was up to the task, and began to put together her effects.

Working with just one arm was extremely disorienting to Tale. The Kaolin’s carefully practiced and planned movement’s were a boon in most situations: They allowed grace and efficiency where there would otherwise simply be squalor and sloth. But take away a hand (let alone an entire limb!) and Tale’s practiced movements became as useless as a suit of Kaolin clothing.

Things which used to take seconds, such as folding a cloth, were now multiple minute marathons. And things which used to take minutes, like untying her nice leather messenger bag with the pretty petal stitching around its flap, were impossible until she resigned herself to using her teeth.

Fortunately, other than gold, a few bits of food, and (of course) her arm, she did not need to take too much with her. But it was vital that she not forget anything: Her time was short, as short as she could possibly make it, before she needed to be back to stay.

She was placing her lucky charm (A deck of Kaolin-style playing cards, which she had had since she was a very fresh child, with a yellow-sun back) into her leather shoulder bag when she heard an odd banging noise.

Bang Bang Bang.

She stopped in her tracks to look over her ruined shoulder.

Bang Bang Bang.

She wondered what it was, and what it could mean. And then she remembered a little Otherian oddity that fit with this situation. One she had nearly forgotten in the tragedy of this bittersweet day.

And she rushed, or as much as Kaolin ever do, to answer the knock at the door.