Nocturne (Vale)

Takes place a couple of days ago.... a continuation in the crazy excavations of Vale's mind.

==

'Nocturne'

Vale awoke to the flames of a summer sun on her back. She stirred, sleep falling from her like the whisper of silk falling from skin, and lifted a hand, gathering her heavy thicket of hair and pulling it from her damp neck. She sighed, dropping her hair across the pillow and letting her hand fall beside.

It was so warm, here, in her rooms above the kitchen of the Blue Recluse, where the morning light drove in through the wide-flung shutters. The air was like a thick shroud after the lingering chill of the night hours, after the breeze that had drifted in and cooled her skin when at last she had lain exhausted across the sheets with arm upflung and her hair like a dark tide around her.

A soft smirk curved at the corners of her mouth and she turned her head; he was gone, as she had known he would be. Night was their province. In the stark and harried daylight hours, they were mere acquaintances; yet they were bound by an invisible thread spun in the shadows, a thread that glinted like quicksilver beneath the clouds...

She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering his hand wrapped in shadowflame, the sudden leaping, devouring sparks that had come from his core. She had known it also, but she had known it as a tool, whereas he knew it in the very fibres of his heart and in the heat of his veins. And she smiled again, a honeyed smile of satisfaction, and slipped from the bed.

Settling before her dressing table and the burnished silver mirror that hung above it, Vale drew a brush through the fierce mane of her hair, her thoughts drifting. She laughed softly as she poured a trickle of water into a silver basin and then lifted a sponge to her cheek, the scents of jasmine and aloes drifting around her.

Vale turned her head at the quiet sandpaper sound of the snake curving across the floorboards, its dark-flecked scales cool in the bright rays that slanted through the open window.

'You've come back from Duskwood, then,' she whispered, leaning down with graceful languor to trace a finger across the serpent's glinting back. It lifted its head to watch her with unblinking eyes; the flickering tongue brushed her skin, and the snake looped itself delicately around her arm and up across her shoulders.

'You see everything, don't you?' Vale's mouth twisted into a smile as she took up the sponge again and drew it across the fragile skin of her neck.

As the snake settled itself around her bare shoulders, she closed her eyes again and dipped her fingertips into the basin before her. A sigh slipped from her chest, reminiscent of the playful night breezes. Far from wasting her life with idle pursuits, she was siphoning secrets from the blood of the city and weaving them into her own intricate and intoxicating tapestry. And her companion of the night before, he was a vibrant, glowing thread within it.

Perhaps fortune did favour the brave. After all, she was no fool; she was Valerias Caan.

For the amusement of comparison, I'm also going to post up something I wrote back in January. Same setting, another actor, different thoughts.

==

'Of Thorn and Lilies'

A shiver trailed down Vale's spine as she sat up, wiping the sleep from her eyes. Her skin prickled as it made contact with the icy air of the winter morning and she nearly slipped beneath the blankets again. It was rare that she had difficulty rising, even on the coldest mornings; yet for some reason this morning she was reluctant. She drew the blanket up to her chest and turned her head, ash-brown hair falling over her shoulders. A ray of pale sunrise had crept in through the window, illuminating the still-sleeping man beside her.

He lay on his back, one arm flung up on the pillow next to him, his face half turned toward her. It was a face much less arrogant in sleep, she thought, smirking vaguely as her eyes travelled over him. Though he was certainly neither athlete nor soldier, his chest and shoulders were well muscled enough to suit her taste. There was an intensity about him that went beyond the immediately physical, and she liked it.

Eothan Dawn, master infiltrator; he was certainly one of the more intriguing characters to stumble into her bed. He was neither boorish nor callow; yes, he could stay for some time, she thought. A distant smile flickered over her lips and then faded as swiftly as it had come.

Sweeping back her rough hair from her face, she tugged one of the blankets away from the rest and wrapped it around herself. Her bare feet met the cold floorboards as she slid from the bed; at least the room was above the kitchen. The great fire in the hearth below, wherein the day's bread would already be baking, provided a little bit of rising warmth. Vale moved silently to the window, pulling the blanket with her like a trailing gown.

She drew one of the shutters open further, glancing down into the alley behind the inn. A cart had clattered up to the back of the building, and two men unloaded sacks – provisions for the inn, more than likely – while another shouted and aimed a kick at a stray dog. This was the mages' quarter, with well kept paths and flowers planted at the doorsteps of shops, but every district had its rats and its beggars. Every district had to have some place to toss its filth.

It was a curious thing that she had ended up here at the Blue Recluse, but it had helped, lately, to look respectable. She yawned, throwing a brief look over her shoulder at the bare but comfortable room. Still, she needed to find work soon, else she'd be gathering her things and making her way to the Pig and Whistle. Ledgic had paid her generously for her last report, but she realised that only half of what she had brought had even been of interest to him, and even that coin was slipping quickly through her fingers.

Turning from the window and leaving the shutter half ajar, Vale sat down on a low stool in front of a small dressing table. Or rather, it was merely the table for the pitcher and bowl for washing, but she had made use of it as best she could. It was a system she was used to – moving into a small and rudimentary place and making it into what she wanted it to be. She had never settled, had never had a house of her own.

Taking up a small sponge, she poured some water from the pitcher into the bowl and began to gently sponge her face and neck. She paused, looking into the small silver mirror that she had hung above the pitcher and bowl. The face that stared back at her was infinitely familiar, yet every time she saw herself, there was something slightly different. It was not a face she could consider beautiful; there was too much Caan in it, too many harsh lines and angles. Still, while among the Caans she had been a mere thorn, here in the wider world she could flower; or was it the other way around? She might have been nothing when the village was still standing, but she had been well on her way to proving her worth. She would have surprised them all, with enough time. Here, in the wider world, who was there to surprise?

She smiled dryly, shaking the convoluted line of thought from her head. Survival and a little amusement, that would do. And at least she knew from long experience that she possessed an attractive face, and that the lines and angles were at least arranged in such a way as to be intriguing.

Vale tilted her head to one side, inspecting the line of her jaw. There was the long scar from her childhood, just on the underside. It was always easily concealable, at least. She turned again, staring straight into the mirror. Her almond eyes looked tired beneath the delicately curving eyebrows, and the skin around them seemed worn and stretched. She closed her eyes slowly, reaching for a glass vial on the table and plucking out the stopper. Memories of sandalwood and lilies and the south wafted slowly to her nostrils as she began to dab the scent behind her jawline; one of the few good things she had managed to pluck from Kalimdor, amidst the desiccating winds and the sand and the goblins.

As she replaced the vial on the table, she heard stirring from behind her. She turned her head to see a groggy but smirking Eothan, propped up on one elbow in the bed, watching her.

'Well, good morning,' he said, his smirk widening as she met his eyes. 'Wouldn't have thought you'd have been so eager to get out of bed after such a fine night.'

'Fine might be exaggerating slightly.' She smiled delicately, picking up a brush and beginning to run it through her thick tangle of hair.

'It was beyond fine, and you know it.' He chuckled, turning onto his back again and stretching his arms above his head with a loud yawn.

'Still, I'll get out of your hair as soon as I'm more awake.' He looked over at her again as she pulled the brush through her hair. 'Or maybe that wasn't exactly the metaphor I wanted to use, but you take my meaning.'

'I suppose you could always tell me about my beautiful eyes.' A smirk formed around Vale's lips as she set the brush back down on the table again and tossed her hair back behind her shoulders. This was one of the few things she liked about Eothan Dawn; his conversation was entertainment rather than work. Oh, how rare that was in men. How rare that was in anyone at all.

'Oh no, I think I'd better save that for tonight.'

'Tonight, hm? I assume that means you're asking me to have a drink with you this evening.' She watched him with a hint of amusement fixed on her face.

'Well, provided I'm not chasing someone down for Ledgic, I wouldn't say no.' Eothan climbed out of bed, pulling his clothes on and running a hand backward through his hair.

Vale nodded, resting one bare arm on the table beside her and watching him. 'Provided I'm not doing something equally dull, I might see you at the Lamb.'

'I'd rather not sleep in the park, so I'll cross my fingers.' Eothan made his way to the door, the floorboards creaking quietly beneath his boots, and opened the latch.

With a vague nod, Vale turned back to her dressing table, looking into the mirror again as she heard the door close. Eyes slightly less tired than before stared back at her, and she smiled thinly. Well, she could spend the day attempting to come up with something useful to keep her fed, and then she would see where the night carried her. At the very least, she had the possibility of a few scraps of entertainment. That would be enough.