Challenge 003: "Hand to Hand"
Title: Hand to Hand
Game: Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken
Word Count: 1418
Pairings/Characters: Lyndis, some Kent and Sain
Warnings: ...uhhh, lame title?
She felt quite like a delicate toy, passed along by each person in the grand hall. Never was she without someone's hand in her own, lest she fall to the floor and shatter, her pieces scattering underfoot like shards of glass.
It was a masquerade, but everybody knew who she was. Lady Lyndis, newly recovered heir to Caelin, the one garnished with white and grey ribbons like an overly-frosted Ilian pastry wearing the mask of her departed mother. She was supposed to resemble a bird, a crane or heron from Caelin's rich marshlands: the birds often taken as symbols of their rich canton.
She knew now more intimately why the noble creature took flight so quickly in the sight people, how it was like to be caged in by strange and unfamiliar faces. Smooth masks met her at every turn, some half a face some whole and each molded into some false expression, true intentions hiding within the shadows behind the eyeholes. Her breath soon caught in her chest, and she swallowed to quell the panic. She was reminded of the politics of the nobles they had tried to teach her on her first day, the complexities and connections each had with each other and the prizes they wished to attain. In that room, she had had protection, she could hide behind words or rely on attendants. Here in the hall, brimming with satins and linens and pearls and deception, she was vulnerable.
She could refuse no one who took her hand and begged of a dance, of a twirl, of a chance to manipulate her with their words. They said things, but she did not know their meaning or what could possibly happen were she to fall victim to them.
"They will speak to you," she was warned, "but promise nothing, do not fall victim to their honeyed lies. The truth may be on their lips, but of the crafted words escaping them, none can be certain. You are new and they will all want you for yourselves. Do not let them have you. It would have been better if your first appearance had been at a later date when we'd had more time to prepare you, but Lord Hausen has not yet recovered and we cannot postpone the Mayday Masquerade."
"If I may, milady?" Lyndis turned her head to the next man who took her gloved hand in his. His dark mask was sculpted into an elegant image of an ermine, the creature's white fur likely the very kind lining his coat and tickling his neck. She nodded and curtsied as she'd been taught, praising the spirits her legs did not buckle beneath her.
The man smiled, and his lips parted spilling gentle words as he led her by her hand. At first they were words with intentions of praise--"In such a short time, it's incredible that someone of your background holds herself with such grace and elegance"--but slowly, he began to sew personal concerns into his monologue until the entire conversation seemed centered around him. If only she might see fit to change this small thing in the law, things would go oh so much better. Certainly she understood, coming from such barbaric hardships as she had.
She wanted to shake and wrench her hand away and hide, but beyond the breaking of her position, she knew she would only become hopelessly lost amidst the others. And without a hand to hold her still as they had, she could very well shatter--though into tears rather than glass--as everyone feared. At least when she was dancing, endlessly dancing, there was one from the multi-faced and yet faceless masses of people so that she would not feel so hopelessly alone.
Her thoughts and passionless dance were interrupted by a clearing of a throat as another man indicated his hope to intercede. With no choice of her own, her partner bit her farewell and passed her hand into that of the next. She held no choice in the matter, of course. Lyndis was completely at the mercy of the people, and somewhere in the back of her mind she was plagued with the horrors of unlikely outcomes were this privilege taken too far, horrors likened to the end of her people. She bit her lip to prevent herself from crying out at her thoughts. Such a thing would never happen in this place, but she could not help but that her mind brought forth such suspicious nightmares for her to speculate upon--even within her own mind she had no control, it seemed.
When the next man took her hand, however, her discomforts were banished. She blinked rapidly in surprise, looking up at his smooth, earthen mask, all his features concealed behind those of a hart. His hand felt different from the others, it was strong and lent her support, rather than being a lofty hold upon hers. Like the animal whose features he wore, the man never spoke, and she found comfort in his silence. He granted her a respite from the bustle and manipulation of the others, gave her a chance to breathe. Though he never completely looked her in the eyes, she studied him. Her eyes glossed over the artistic slope and antlers of his mask to the brown, furless mantle that swayed with their smooth motions.
All too soon, Lyndis had to yield her hand to the next man, however. She turned to see him just as he bowed before the congregation swallowed him up. Again she was swept up in spirals and endless dances, each man draining her more than the last with their direction and elusive requests. She was traded throughout the room, all voices a barrage against her hearing, her mind devolving due to a great throbbing which beat within her temples. Had she danced with some of these people before? She couldn't tell. Her legs and whole body was numb. Was it their intention to wear her down so that she might commit to someone out of desperation for peace?
Again, Lyndis felt an incredible pressure within her chest. She wanted to take her head in her hands and beg the world to stop, stop its noise, stop its spinning, stop flooding her with the scent of wines and foods she had no chance to drink or eat, and stop giving sending into the hands of people who knew not the virtues of honesty and plainness of speaking as her plains people did.
Another clearing of a throat, and through the throng of people, the hart stood again. He bowed this time, and took her hand in his. In his dance, she again felt wrapped up in peace and the comfort of his silence. Time had only barely passed when she was taken away again, from her noble savior and forced into the games of the others. Through swashes of color, she began to look for the somber, stable browns of the stag. But only when her endurance seemed at an end would he appear.
In time, she began to notice differences in the hart's appearances. In one time, he would be firm, but protective, in others fluid and uplifting. When she started to notice differences in his mask, she suspected he was not one, but two. On this knowledge, she became eternally grateful. Her feelings of solitude were banished in the knowledge of her companions' presence.
And when the masquerade came to an end, and all the participants bid their leave in ones and in couples, Lyndis was finally allowed to meet them together: her two harts which protected her from her fears and her pains each time she was given into their hands. She ran to them to thank them for keeping her safe when she could do naught but yield to the wills of others, but stopped in front of them when they knelt before her. She reached toward them, intending to touch them and inquire what matter drove them to such a motion.
At this, both gently took each hand with more respect than any other man before her this evening and very lightly brushed their lips over her knuckles. With this, tears finally sprang to her eyes and she fell to the floor, throwing her arms around their necks, and clinging to them as best she could. Such strength they had, she only hoped she could one day perform as well as they.
In the same moment, both thought the same of her.
Game: Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken
Word Count: 1418
Pairings/Characters: Lyndis, some Kent and Sain
Warnings: ...uhhh, lame title?
She felt quite like a delicate toy, passed along by each person in the grand hall. Never was she without someone's hand in her own, lest she fall to the floor and shatter, her pieces scattering underfoot like shards of glass.
It was a masquerade, but everybody knew who she was. Lady Lyndis, newly recovered heir to Caelin, the one garnished with white and grey ribbons like an overly-frosted Ilian pastry wearing the mask of her departed mother. She was supposed to resemble a bird, a crane or heron from Caelin's rich marshlands: the birds often taken as symbols of their rich canton.
She knew now more intimately why the noble creature took flight so quickly in the sight people, how it was like to be caged in by strange and unfamiliar faces. Smooth masks met her at every turn, some half a face some whole and each molded into some false expression, true intentions hiding within the shadows behind the eyeholes. Her breath soon caught in her chest, and she swallowed to quell the panic. She was reminded of the politics of the nobles they had tried to teach her on her first day, the complexities and connections each had with each other and the prizes they wished to attain. In that room, she had had protection, she could hide behind words or rely on attendants. Here in the hall, brimming with satins and linens and pearls and deception, she was vulnerable.
She could refuse no one who took her hand and begged of a dance, of a twirl, of a chance to manipulate her with their words. They said things, but she did not know their meaning or what could possibly happen were she to fall victim to them.
"They will speak to you," she was warned, "but promise nothing, do not fall victim to their honeyed lies. The truth may be on their lips, but of the crafted words escaping them, none can be certain. You are new and they will all want you for yourselves. Do not let them have you. It would have been better if your first appearance had been at a later date when we'd had more time to prepare you, but Lord Hausen has not yet recovered and we cannot postpone the Mayday Masquerade."
"If I may, milady?" Lyndis turned her head to the next man who took her gloved hand in his. His dark mask was sculpted into an elegant image of an ermine, the creature's white fur likely the very kind lining his coat and tickling his neck. She nodded and curtsied as she'd been taught, praising the spirits her legs did not buckle beneath her.
The man smiled, and his lips parted spilling gentle words as he led her by her hand. At first they were words with intentions of praise--"In such a short time, it's incredible that someone of your background holds herself with such grace and elegance"--but slowly, he began to sew personal concerns into his monologue until the entire conversation seemed centered around him. If only she might see fit to change this small thing in the law, things would go oh so much better. Certainly she understood, coming from such barbaric hardships as she had.
She wanted to shake and wrench her hand away and hide, but beyond the breaking of her position, she knew she would only become hopelessly lost amidst the others. And without a hand to hold her still as they had, she could very well shatter--though into tears rather than glass--as everyone feared. At least when she was dancing, endlessly dancing, there was one from the multi-faced and yet faceless masses of people so that she would not feel so hopelessly alone.
Her thoughts and passionless dance were interrupted by a clearing of a throat as another man indicated his hope to intercede. With no choice of her own, her partner bit her farewell and passed her hand into that of the next. She held no choice in the matter, of course. Lyndis was completely at the mercy of the people, and somewhere in the back of her mind she was plagued with the horrors of unlikely outcomes were this privilege taken too far, horrors likened to the end of her people. She bit her lip to prevent herself from crying out at her thoughts. Such a thing would never happen in this place, but she could not help but that her mind brought forth such suspicious nightmares for her to speculate upon--even within her own mind she had no control, it seemed.
When the next man took her hand, however, her discomforts were banished. She blinked rapidly in surprise, looking up at his smooth, earthen mask, all his features concealed behind those of a hart. His hand felt different from the others, it was strong and lent her support, rather than being a lofty hold upon hers. Like the animal whose features he wore, the man never spoke, and she found comfort in his silence. He granted her a respite from the bustle and manipulation of the others, gave her a chance to breathe. Though he never completely looked her in the eyes, she studied him. Her eyes glossed over the artistic slope and antlers of his mask to the brown, furless mantle that swayed with their smooth motions.
All too soon, Lyndis had to yield her hand to the next man, however. She turned to see him just as he bowed before the congregation swallowed him up. Again she was swept up in spirals and endless dances, each man draining her more than the last with their direction and elusive requests. She was traded throughout the room, all voices a barrage against her hearing, her mind devolving due to a great throbbing which beat within her temples. Had she danced with some of these people before? She couldn't tell. Her legs and whole body was numb. Was it their intention to wear her down so that she might commit to someone out of desperation for peace?
Again, Lyndis felt an incredible pressure within her chest. She wanted to take her head in her hands and beg the world to stop, stop its noise, stop its spinning, stop flooding her with the scent of wines and foods she had no chance to drink or eat, and stop giving sending into the hands of people who knew not the virtues of honesty and plainness of speaking as her plains people did.
Another clearing of a throat, and through the throng of people, the hart stood again. He bowed this time, and took her hand in his. In his dance, she again felt wrapped up in peace and the comfort of his silence. Time had only barely passed when she was taken away again, from her noble savior and forced into the games of the others. Through swashes of color, she began to look for the somber, stable browns of the stag. But only when her endurance seemed at an end would he appear.
In time, she began to notice differences in the hart's appearances. In one time, he would be firm, but protective, in others fluid and uplifting. When she started to notice differences in his mask, she suspected he was not one, but two. On this knowledge, she became eternally grateful. Her feelings of solitude were banished in the knowledge of her companions' presence.
And when the masquerade came to an end, and all the participants bid their leave in ones and in couples, Lyndis was finally allowed to meet them together: her two harts which protected her from her fears and her pains each time she was given into their hands. She ran to them to thank them for keeping her safe when she could do naught but yield to the wills of others, but stopped in front of them when they knelt before her. She reached toward them, intending to touch them and inquire what matter drove them to such a motion.
At this, both gently took each hand with more respect than any other man before her this evening and very lightly brushed their lips over her knuckles. With this, tears finally sprang to her eyes and she fell to the floor, throwing her arms around their necks, and clinging to them as best she could. Such strength they had, she only hoped she could one day perform as well as they.
In the same moment, both thought the same of her.