One girl. Two cats. A world full of adventure.
Abbernathy Tells is a twelve year old girl who prefers the companionship of her two cats and a dying tree over others her age. When a horrible tragedy strikes on her thirteenth birthday, robbing h...
Lain hadn't seen the stars in ages. When he'd been a young kit, he'd sat underneath these same stars, dreaming of many things. Of bonding with the woman he loved, of putting down his sword and taking up the pen. Of traveling on the sea. But now, as he laid under their splendor, tainted by the red light of the moon, he saw only that pair of gold eyes he had loved for so long. And now, he saw those eyes lifeless, the fur around them patchy, the flesh underneath rotten.
He sighed and turned over. Like so many nights before, he would not find sleep. "Ben' nessra," he whispered. "Loreilanna."
He had met the Queen under a sky such as this when a golden crescent moon hung in the rich velvet of night. He'd been writing or trying to, scrawling his silly poems on a piece of parchment he'd stolen off the guard captain's desk.
She'd strode out into the courtyard, carefree, all her burden, all her duty stripped away from her along with her royal robes and crown. Before him, the queen was just another Aelurian, dipping outside for some night air. She'd looked so much younger under the moon of her blood. Her beauty gaining as she relaxed her usual stiff posture, her fur unbound by the braids of Moon bloods, black and slightly wavy, it had shimmered under the dying lights of the castle. Her eyes had sparkled, and she'd taken the moment alone to breathe, and let herself relax. And then, Lain had dropped his quill, and she'd taken finally taken notice of him.
Lain had scrambled to pocket his parchment, get rid of his quill, snuff out the flickering light on his candle -- the writing was above his common blood, but she had her eyes locked on him.
Curiously, she'd asked him what he was writing, not why he was writing, or how he'd learn to write, but what he had written. Lain had answered honestly, told her he was writing poems about the sea. She'd laughed, beautiful soft sounds falling from her lips like silver bells, the only sound in an otherwise still night. She'd smiled.
They'd had many more meetings under the stars, under the ancestors' gazes, talking and laughing. In those moments, she had shed her title, and he his, and they were two Aelurians, unbound. She'd taught him high tongue in secret and Lain's love for her grew and swelled to the point he thought his feelings would crush him. When she'd cried over her husband, he ached for her, to touch her, to comfort her. And when the arrows had struck her, one after another, on that hill in Exul, until one pierced her heart, he'd wanted to do much of the same- touch her, comfort her, die with her.
But she was alive still, and Lain, under a familiar canopy of pitch black and tiny white lights, vowed to stay alive, too. He could never comfort her as he longed to, but he could vow to die with her.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Abbernathy Fun Fact 13: One of the first scenes I wrote for Abby was the night her mother died giving birth to her. It was from Culpepper's perspective and remains to this day one of the saddest things I've ever written. It probably won't see the light of day and that's a good thing.
