Abluvion
Pre-Humanoid Era
xxxx, X.X.
Pre-Humanoid Era
xxxx, X.X.
Feelings were the
enemy.
Unda attempted to
remind herself of this fact as she paced her throne room, running a hand
through her long black hair in a slight worry. “You are a Goddess,” she hissed to herself, “You’re not allowed to have any of
these strange feelings – not like Calor, who fraternizes every day with his
ladies.”
Calor. She shuddered at
the thought of her brother.
The last time she had
been to Élan, she had witnessed her brother being
served by many ladies with wild hair and burning eyes. And he paid attention to
each and every one of them, his grin infectious and charisma upping the
atmosphere. It was only when she had cleared her throat did he realize that she
was there, and he calmly asked for his companions to return later. They left
the room without complaint, their red-orange skirts swishing as they moved out.
“Do they enjoy that?” Calor had blinked, fixing his hair.
“Enjoy what?”
“Making your ladies swoon and adore you,” she retorted dryly, sitting on a nearby chair. Calor
let the smirk return to his lips. “Before
you know it, they’ll be kissing your feet and washing your hair as well.”
“I’m not that
conceited, dear sister. And they’re the ones who choose to adore me.” He gave a non-committal shrug, “And if that’s what they please, then why should I stop them?”
“Heart and mind don’t go together, Calor.” She reminded him sharply.
“Keep telling yourself that, Unda.”
She
couldn’t feel.
Not
too much, at least.
It
was an unspoken rule the Deities had amongst themselves: they weren’t allowed
to feel too intensely and let their emotions get in the way. Sadly, this rule
seemed to crumble to pieces for the rest of them. Calor and Amina soon embraced
their emotions, managing to live in harmony with them. Unda was there,
struggling with her own.
But
the one who had mastered the art of not feeling (too much) was Ventus.
Ventus
was frequently seen with a calmly stoic face, voicing out his opinions whenever
needed. In fact, it seemed like the only person he shared with was Amina, the
youngest of the four of them. Then again, Unda thought, she could understand
why. Sweet Amina was the one they would go to when they needed some calming
down or some reassurance that everything was fine. As young as she was, the
Earth Deity was the only one who could get them back on the proper track.
Unda rubbed her eyes
and sat on the throne, feeling exhausted than majestic. She heard the rains
outside the area fall harder and she shut her eyes, trying to calm herself
down.
“Your Grace?”
She nearly jumped out
of her seat. Eyes snapping open, she found herself looking at Quan, his ocean-blue
eyes studying her in concern.
“Your Grace. Is
everything alright?”
“You know I let you
call me by name, Quan,” she exhaled. At those words, her Knight’s form
immediately relaxed. “…and yes. I’m fine.”
If
you could stop making me feel like this,
then I’d feel better, the Water Deity thought venomously,
her lips about to form into a scowl. As much as she wanted to frighten away her
closest Knight, however, she knew that she couldn’t do that. At all.
Curse
his beautiful face and charming eyes.
“The Ladies reported
that you looked unwell.” He shifted and she noticed that he had brought a tray
with him containing food, “And they asked me to send this down to you. We can’t
have our leader malnourished,” he attempted to joke, and Unda rolled her eyes.
“They worry too much.”
“Of course they do. The
ladies, the knights, myself – we’re your people. Everyone in Abluvion is. So
naturally, we worry.” Quan approached her with the tray and she watched as he
set it down on the table in front of her, looking back at her with those deep
blue eyes and twitching smile.
“Do you worry, Quan?”
He didn’t hesitate in
his reply. “Of course I do. Even though I know you can handle yourself, you can’t
stop your Most Trusted from worrying about you.” Unda quickly glanced away to
hide her reddening cheeks, and she heard Quan step back and pull a chair across
her. “You need to eat, Unda. Don’t worry everyone else,” he asked, and she reached
out, grabbing the first thing her fingers made contact with.
Upon biting, she tasted
the sweetness of fruit and looked up. Quan was watching her, but as her gaze
lifted, he glanced away and looked at the weapon in its hilt. Unda cleared her
throat.
“Did they ask you to
stay here, too?”
The tips of Quan’s ears
reddened. “No, I – I was just asked to bring it down here. But I can leave if
you’re uncomfortable,” he added quickly. Quan was preparing to stand, but the
next noise that left Unda’s lips made him stop.
She chuckled.
“You’re being foolish. Of course you can stay.”
She pushed the tray lightly towards him, “And eat. I can’t finish this all by
myself.” Quan narrowed his eyes, but at the unusual warmth in Unda’s, he
hesitantly took a buttered roll and bit into it.
While Quan struggled to
decipher her true motives, the Water Deity struggled with her own feelings,
attempting to work logic and heart, wanting to meld them together.
To
feel or not to feel
To
fall or not to fall
To
drown or not to drown
“–nda? Unda?”
Quan snapped his
fingers. Unda blinked, the fruit nearly falling from her fingers. Quan was
studying her, his hand stretched out as if wanting to touch her and snap her
out of her reverie.
“You’re really out of
it today, Unda,” he commented. Unda suddenly rose from her throne and the
Knight blinked in surprise, rising from his seat as well. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Out.” She replied,
voice clipped. He felt his heart sink at her distance. Unda walked down and
headed to the door, but stopped as she was about to turn the doorknob. “…well?”
“I – what?”
She tapped her foot on
the ground.
“What kind of Knight
are you?” she snapped. “Accompany me out, Quan.” And the male rushed forward,
taking her arms and apologizing profusely for his incompetence as they walked
out of the room. Unda, however, paid him no heed.
She focused on the
feeling of his skin against hers, and the rains quieted down a little bit.
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