Fic: Legacy
Jul. 16th, 2009 02:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amediaTitle: Legacy
Author: Amedia
Characters: Azkadellia, DG
Rating: G
Word count: 500
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Imagiquest. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: DG learns why Azkadellia burns incense.
Author's note: Response to a![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comment_fic request from ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kseda here. The original request was "DG/Azkadellia, incense," though I confess that it turned out "and" rather than "/". Also posted here. The original version was 539 words; I trimmed it a little since.
DG knocked on the door of her sister's room with trepidation; she had only visited it in visions and nightmares. After a moment, Az opened the door. She wore a plain caftan and her hair was uncombed; there were dark circles under her eyes. "Hi, DG. Did Mother send you?"
"Got it in one," DG said, forcing a smile.
"I guess I should come down for dinner. Why don't you come in while I do something with this hair." DG walked into the room.
The elaborate furnishings she had seen when she dreamed of Azkadellia asleep were gone; only a few utilitarian pieces were scattered about the room. The ornate mirror that had reflected the Witch through Azkadellia's face had been removed, leaving a darker patch where the wallpaper behind it had not faded.
Azkadellia walked over to a mirrorless dresser and picked up a comb. DG watched her fight tangles for a moment, then went to help. "Give me that," she said, holding out her hand, and Az obeyed, as if she would rather hand over her willpower to DG than try to find her own. DG soothed and petted and unsnagged until Azkadellia's hair was a smooth shining curtain.
"What's that smell?" DG asked.
Az looked frightened. "What smell?"
"I don't know. It's pretty. Like a hippie shop." DG smiled.
"Oh!" Az said, relieved. "It's patchouli. I ... burn it a lot."
"Why?"
Az turned away. DG paused, uncertain whether to pursue, but finally Azkadellia spoke in a low, hesitant voice. "Have you ever smelled a battlefield, DG? The stench of blood and burning flesh, the bitter tang of gunpowder and heated metal." DG found that she could not speak, but Az didn't seem to expect an answer. The soft voice continued. "She luxuriated in it. We had to watch every battle, get as close as possible. As horrible as the sights and the sounds were, it's the smell that lingers."
DG put her arms around Azkadellia and hugged her close. "I don't smell anything except the patchouli, Az," she said, nuzzling her face into her sister's neck.
Azkadellia reached up, threading her fingers through DG's tousled hair. "That's because it isn't really there. And that's why it will never go away. Because it's here." She tapped her heart.
"You should tell Mother," DG implored, feeling tears pricking just under her eyelids. "Or Tutor. Maybe they could--"
Azkadellia shook her head. "It's a legacy from my past, DG," she said. "I don't have a lot from those years. The more I lose, the more I forget, the less there is of me. I'd rather have bad memories than emptiness."
DG choked suddenly. "I should never have let go."
Az pushed her away just enough to see DG's tearstained face. "You were little. And scared. It's not your fault, Deege." She kissed each of DG's eyes tenderly, like a blessing, and wiped the tears with her sleeve. "Let's go down to dinner, okay?"
They walked down holding hands.
Author: Amedia
Characters: Azkadellia, DG
Rating: G
Word count: 500
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Imagiquest. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: DG learns why Azkadellia burns incense.
Author's note: Response to a
comment_fic request from kseda here. The original request was "DG/Azkadellia, incense," though I confess that it turned out "and" rather than "/". Also posted here. The original version was 539 words; I trimmed it a little since.DG knocked on the door of her sister's room with trepidation; she had only visited it in visions and nightmares. After a moment, Az opened the door. She wore a plain caftan and her hair was uncombed; there were dark circles under her eyes. "Hi, DG. Did Mother send you?"
"Got it in one," DG said, forcing a smile.
"I guess I should come down for dinner. Why don't you come in while I do something with this hair." DG walked into the room.
The elaborate furnishings she had seen when she dreamed of Azkadellia asleep were gone; only a few utilitarian pieces were scattered about the room. The ornate mirror that had reflected the Witch through Azkadellia's face had been removed, leaving a darker patch where the wallpaper behind it had not faded.
Azkadellia walked over to a mirrorless dresser and picked up a comb. DG watched her fight tangles for a moment, then went to help. "Give me that," she said, holding out her hand, and Az obeyed, as if she would rather hand over her willpower to DG than try to find her own. DG soothed and petted and unsnagged until Azkadellia's hair was a smooth shining curtain.
"What's that smell?" DG asked.
Az looked frightened. "What smell?"
"I don't know. It's pretty. Like a hippie shop." DG smiled.
"Oh!" Az said, relieved. "It's patchouli. I ... burn it a lot."
"Why?"
Az turned away. DG paused, uncertain whether to pursue, but finally Azkadellia spoke in a low, hesitant voice. "Have you ever smelled a battlefield, DG? The stench of blood and burning flesh, the bitter tang of gunpowder and heated metal." DG found that she could not speak, but Az didn't seem to expect an answer. The soft voice continued. "She luxuriated in it. We had to watch every battle, get as close as possible. As horrible as the sights and the sounds were, it's the smell that lingers."
DG put her arms around Azkadellia and hugged her close. "I don't smell anything except the patchouli, Az," she said, nuzzling her face into her sister's neck.
Azkadellia reached up, threading her fingers through DG's tousled hair. "That's because it isn't really there. And that's why it will never go away. Because it's here." She tapped her heart.
"You should tell Mother," DG implored, feeling tears pricking just under her eyelids. "Or Tutor. Maybe they could--"
Azkadellia shook her head. "It's a legacy from my past, DG," she said. "I don't have a lot from those years. The more I lose, the more I forget, the less there is of me. I'd rather have bad memories than emptiness."
DG choked suddenly. "I should never have let go."
Az pushed her away just enough to see DG's tearstained face. "You were little. And scared. It's not your fault, Deege." She kissed each of DG's eyes tenderly, like a blessing, and wiped the tears with her sleeve. "Let's go down to dinner, okay?"
They walked down holding hands.
