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[annapeace.livejournal.com]

Title: Mazurka
Summary: Time moves and worlds change but the dancers stay the same.
Turns 1-3


(step)

The lowlands of the East have belonged to the Wolf tribe since the dawn of time, or so the history goes. Kyllara believes this with all her heart, so when the men from the West come and burn them from their homes, it fills her with shame to leave her land. To think that she is running away like a coward with her tail between her legs! Her blood is meant to stay in the lowlands, whether in her veins or soaking into the dirt. Yet she has a duty to her people.

The young and weak, the old and ill, they cannot fight and need someone to lead them to safety. They need Kyllara for she is their princess and now their queen, with her parents having fallen in the last battle and her brother lost and gone. Kyllara understands this because she has been raised well, and though she is youthful, having only seen eighteen winters, she knows her responsibilities. So she gathers up what remains her of tribe and goes in search of sanctuary in the high mountains. The Crescent Moon tribe rules those lands and they will be kind. Kyllara has no other choice but to believe that.

(step)

More often than not he finds himself watching the sun rise with the taste of blood in his mouth. If he is lucky, it’s fresh blood; if not it’s old blood, bitter and crusty like so much stale vomit at the back of his throat. This is what came from a lifetime of killing, and the dawn only meant more killing to be done.

At twenty four he is not an old man but he is an old campaigner. The war he is being sent to is not his first, or second, or third, although really he thinks this war is the same as all the others he’s been in so maybe it still counts as his first and it’s just not over yet. This seems more likely as the days go by and the recruits get younger; at this rate the Council will be sending children to the front soon for this never-ending war. Silently he hopes it will never happen because he knows all too well what kind of adults those children would become.

He is one, a pioneer, a prodigy of sorts, who is still young enough to wish for his old life but not innocent enough to turn back. He cannot go back but it is getting harder to go forward too.

Captain Tom Kess turns from the newly risen run in disgust and goes back into his tent.

(spin)

“Natsumi-chan, if you don’t hurry we’re going to be late!”

Natsumi finished fixing her socks and ran to catch up with her friends. They were all dressed in Tokyo High School’s dark blue girls’ uniforms and carrying book bags, clearly on their way to school. They were gossiping over a TV show they watched last night, eyes bright and cheeks red, switching easily between topics from which celebrity they liked on that show to what the lead actress was wearing. Of the four girls, Natsumi talked the least but laughed the most, usually taking her lead from her sister who appeared to lead them all.

The girls walked through their school gates eager not to be late and never noticed the young man standing across the street, casually smoking a cigarette. He had watched them the entire way from behind mirrored sunglasses. He did not smile once.

--

(step)

The people of the Crescent Moon tribe are all pale and wispy in physique, and in comparison Kyllara feels almost defiantly outlandish. She prizes her own thick sable hair and flaunts her suntanned skin, and she is sure she can throw over any Crescent Moon tribesman in a fight. In her own tongue Kyllara means ‘river wolf’ and she has lived up to her name of speed and strength. Though she does not want to consider it, she can’t help thinking that if the men of the West were to follow up the mountains the Crescent Moon tribe would not last long. How could they when the Wolf tribe could not hold? Still, her people need food and shelter, and the Crescent Moon tribe is her only hope.

Thus it was that she approaches Queen Silva of the Crescent Moon with a healthy amount of humility and respect.

Queen Silva is fair and slender like her people, and she greets Kyllara with kindness in her voice.

“We have heard of what happened to your tribe, sister queen. Take rest, we will care for you and yours here,” Silva says, speaking in tribal Common.

Kyllara feels her bottom lip quiver at being called queen; just two weeks ago she was still a princess. But she takes a deep breath and steadies herself. Her reply too, is in tribal Common. “Thank you, sister queen. If I may, I would like to speak with you later, once my people are settled.”

“Of course. We’ll meet in the council room in one candle mark. I’ll send someone to show you there.” Silva smiled gently and touches Kyllara’s shoulder with a soft hand. “You are brave, Kyllara. Your parents would be proud of you even now.”

Kyllara forces tears back from her eyes and can’t manage a reply, but she knows Queen Silva understands.

(step)

“I think the Council has gone bat shit insane.” This comes from a young sergeant named Dan Maxwell. He is huddled over the small campfire with a mug of coffee between his hands and a look of discontent on his face. “I mean, do you hate the natives? I don’t hate the natives. So why do we have to keep fighting them?”

“They stand in the way of progress,” Tom responded in an automatic sort of way. The mantra has been drilled into him so deeply he doesn’t even think about it anymore. When he does, he admits he doesn’t really believe it, but he’s still in the army so it’s still what he says.

“Progress,” Dan snorts, sounding exactly like his horse, a monstrous black thing he jokingly named Death. “Personally, I think the natives got it right. Their lives look so easy.”

Tom shrugs uncomfortably, finishing his breakfast of warm bread and cheese. He doesn’t like casual conversation much, even with Dan who can be considered his closest friend. He really doesn’t like conversations about the natives though. It brings up feelings that get in the way when he has to go to work.

“You didn’t have to join the army,” Tom mutters, hoping to divert Dan from his subject.

“Oh yes I did.” Dan exhales sharply and inhales the rest of his coffee. “You don’t know what it’s like back where I came from. I figure if I got to kill people, I might as well get some respect out of it. Assassins get paid better but uniforms will make you look good.” Dan sighs. “What about you Captain, you never told me why you joined up.”

Tom shifts awkwardly. “I was raised in the army, just seemed like the thing to do.” He stands up quickly and brushes dirt off the seat of his pants. “I’m gonna go piss.”

(spin)

“We’re home!” Fuyumi burst into the living room, probably hoping for something as her face fell when she saw no one was there. Her sister, Natsumi, followed at a slower pace, her attention invested in the cell phone in her hands.

Though twins, the girls appeared as different as night and day: Fuyumi’s hair was like spun gold and her eyes were so pale blue they sometimes seemed gray. Natsumi had ink black hair and her eyes were so deep blue they could almost be purple. Living in Tokyo, their looks made them quite exotic, and they considered it their first and last gift from their late mother.

“Girls?” a deep masculine voice called from upstairs.

“Oniisan,” Fuyumi answered. “We just got home from school, where’s Papa?”

From the stairs came a tall young man who smiled as he saw his sisters. “Something came up, as usual.”

“But it’s our birthday!” Fuyumi pouted. “He can’t do this to us! Right, Natsumi-chan?”

Natsumi was still wholly absorbed with her phone and hummed a vaguely affirmative reply.

“That’s why I’m skipping my afternoon classes to take you out,” their brother said, his tone indulgent in the way of one who has headed off many a tantrum by being prepared with a backup plan. Missing a few classes at the university would be nothing compared to hearing Fuyumi bitch about having a lousy birthday for weeks on end.

Fuyumi squealed her delight and ran to embrace her brother. “You’re the best, oniisan. But I’m still going to be mad at Papa.”

The young man chuckled; so long as his eardrums were spared that was fine by him. He hugged his sister back, then looked curiously over at Natsumi.

“What’s got you so riveted over there?”

“Hm?” Natsumi finally snapped her phone shut and smiled up at them. “Nothing, just replying a few text messages from Shizuka-kun.”

“Her secret boyfriend,” Fuyumi fake whispered to their brother.

Natsumi let out a long suffering sigh and didn’t bother to correct her sister; she knew it would be no use. Instead, she said, “So what are we doing, Takeshi-oniisan?”

Takeshi shrugged. “What do you feel like doing?”

He wasn’t surprised when Fuyumi came up with their plan. It wasn’t that Natsumi always deferred to her sister, it was just a lot easier when Fuyumi got her way.

--

(step)

“This is my friend Trilar,” Kyllara introduces. “I hope you don’t mind that he joins us, he doesn’t like leaving my side and to tell the truth, I value his opinion in all things.”

Silva observes the lanky young man standing silently behind Kyllara. His angular hawk-like face makes him look dangerous and his movements proclaim him competently so. Yet the way he watches Kyllara reveals him to be trustworthy down to his bones.

“I don’t mind at all,” Silva smiles. “You’re wise to find a good companion to advise you. Please, have a seat, both of you.”

Kyllara slides smoothly into a chair at the stone table, but Trilar remains standing behind her. Silva doesn’t press the issue and takes her own seat.

“May I present to you my own advisors: Lord Kethran, Lady Mina, and Prince Eriol, my daughter’s husband.”

Lord Kethran and Lady Mina are siblings, both radiantly pale in complexion. The prince is of darker nature with an aura of quiet strength.

“The princess won’t be joining us?” Kyllara asks.

Queen Silva’s cough is tinged with a hint of embarrassment. “She’s a bit busy, unfortunately.”

“Ah.” Kyllara smartly leaves the matter behind. “That’s fine. I only mean to warn you. Having driven my people from the lowlands, the men of the West will soon be crawling all over your mountains.”

“We’ve gotten reports that they’re already in the foothills,” Prince Eriol confirms grimly.

Kyllara nods. “They’re an insatiable lot. I hope you have the means to face them.”

At this, Silva presses her lips together pensively. “We are not by nature a warlike tribe, but we have our own ways of defending ourselves.”

“Our castle can withstand anything,” Lady Mina assures. “We have two mages that serve us and they have set protective wards along the walls.”

“Mages?” Kyllara is surprised for the Wolf tribe has not encountered mages for generations. She has long thought wizards and magicians to be stuff of myth. “Truly?”

“They are nice people,” Lord Kethran says. “We’ll introduce you to them later.”

The young queen brightens noticeably. “I would like that. Knowing you have mages sets my heart at ease, my people shall be safe here and I can go search for my brother without worry.”

“No.” The sudden, abrupt rejection comes from Trilar, who has remained silent until now. All eyes fall on the lanky warrior as he faces his queen impassively.

Kyllara creases her brow in confusion. “Trilar? You know Sithru is out there somewhere, I must go find him.”

“No,” Trilar repeats.

“I’m afraid I agree with Trilar,” Silva says gently. “It’s far too dangerous for you to do this.”

“I have an obligation to my brother –“

“Your duty is to your people here, not to a man who may or may not be alive. You are still our queen and we need you, no matter how kind Queen Silva’s hospitality.” Though Trilar’s voice never changes in tone, his words are driven with a soft implacability. “Or are you so eager to be done with us, to unload us onto another?”

Kyllara flushes and looks down to hide her face, but when she replies her voice is icy. “That’s enough, Trilar.”

“Yes, my Queen,” Trilar responds submissively, but in the way of one who has won the argument and can afford to be graceful. Silva can’t help hiding a smile. Kyllara is new at this, but Silva is wise to the ways of how royalty can be bullied.

“We’ll tell our scouts to start gathering any news they can on your brother,” Eriol offers as a consolation.

“Thank you.”

It is at that moment the chamber door opens and a young woman around Kyllara’s age drifts in. Her close resemblance to Queen Silva leaves no question as to who she is. The princess is beaming and holds a handful of wildflowers.

“Hello, you must be Kyllara. It’s so wonderful to have you visit. My name is Siluna but everyone calls me Bunny.”

Kyllara blinks a few times, as though making sure the princess before her isn’t a hallucination. She had heard tales of the Crescent Moon princess but hasn’t believed them until now.

“Because I’m cute as a bunny rabbit, isn’t that right darling?”

Prince Eriol’s response is dutiful. “Yes, dear.”

(step)

Tom Kess’ horse is probably the most beautiful one to be found in the West, a silvery white mount with tapered legs and a silky tail. However, everyone who’s ever encountered her has come away muttering ‘spiteful bitch’ or worse - that is, if they are able to talk afterwards. Fly doesn’t kick often, but her hooves are lethal.

“You ever think of breeding her?” Dan asks conversationally. He is riding next to his friend up the overgrown mountain trail. The air is thin and tinged with ice despite it still being autumn, and his voice doesn’t carry far through it. “Because I’ve been thinking of putting Death out to stud, and they’d make a nice pair.”

Tom unconsciously runs his fingers through his horse’s soft mane. “Your horse is ugly.”

If Death understands, he doesn’t show it, but Dan defends him enough for the both of them. “He is not! He’s forbidding.” Then he leans down to look his mount in the eye. “Don’t listen to him, buddy, tough and burly is a great look on you.”

The giant black warhorse only snorts and continues plodding.

Tom ignores both rider and horse and focuses on the road ahead. The scouts have reported the mountain tribe being different from their lowland kin. The lowlanders were nomadic for the most part, ranging all throughout their territory, and it had been a hard fight to track them all down and drive them away. Tom Kess only heard stories of it from other officers; he hadn’t been a part of the lowland effort. Before being sent out on his current campaign he had been up North, fighting the vicious Blade Runner tribe. He has never thought of leaving the army; soldiering was what he did best.

Tom frowns slightly. At this rate he’ll be fighting wars until he is killed, and because he is very good at what he does, he’ll be doing this for a long time. The prospect fills him with bleakness.

Dan interrupts his thoughts with a question spoken through a mouthful of half chewed jerky. “This is going to be bad, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“The reports all say the mountain natives have a castle, and you know that means a siege. Winter’s coming up fast and hard up here, how long do you think we’ll last?”

Tom glances behind him at the lines of soldiers strung out down the paths. Even though it’s late morning it’s still cold enough to see steam rising from the uniformed bodies.

“Like I said, the Council has gone insane. No one makes war in winter, with good reason.”

“Orders are orders.” Tom pauses. “But yeah, it’s going to be bad.”

(spin)

Yamano Kenji paused outside Natsumi’s open door and peered inside. His youngest daughter (by all of twelve minutes) had redecorated the room when Fuyumi had moved to Takeshi’s old bedroom and it was all done up in blues and silvers. Kenji still wasn’t quite used to it though, he kept expecting something pink or red to pop up suddenly, but no, all the pinks and reds were down the hall now. He smiled, thinking not for the first time how different his twin daughters were, then knocked on the doorframe.

Natsumi was at her desk poring over her homework, but she turned at the noise. Her face lit up at the sight of her father.

“Welcome home, I didn’t hear you come in, Father.”

“You weren’t supposed to.” Kenji chuckled. “How was today?”

“Oniisan took us to the amusement park, and then we went out for dinner at oneechan’s favorite restaurant. It was a lot of fun.”

Kenji nodded. “Good, I’m glad. I’m sorry I couldn’t take you out like I promised.”

Natsumi paused. “That’s all right, I know your…work is very important.”

“But never as important as my children. Happy birthday, Natsumi.” Kenji went over to her, pulling a box out of his pocket as he walked, and presented her with his gift. Natsumi took it with both hands.

“Thank you, Father.” Upon opening it, she found a glittering diamond studded bracelet resting on crushed blue velvet. “It’s beautiful! How…” She meant to ask how he managed to afford it. They were well off, but not well off enough that her father could spend so much on a simple birthday gift. Yet she held her tongue, knowing that her father would only avoid the issue. It was supposed to be a secret, her father’s bad gambling habit, but Natsumi knew, just as she knew he’d probably bought the gift from his night’s winnings.

“I can’t believe my girls are turning eighteen. Soon you’ll be going off to college, leaving your poor old dad alone in this house,” Kenji rambled on sentimentally, not noticing his daughter’s unfinished question.

“You’ll like the quiet,” she teased, poking his side playfully.

“Only for a little bit.” Kenji patted her shoulder. “I’ll let you get back to your homework then and go give Fuyumi her gift now.”

“Yes, Father. Thanks again, I really love it.”

“I live for your joy,” he said with mock resignation, grinning as he made his way down the hall.