In Lost Dreams the Four Were Bound

52 - Elis - Coping and Turnabout

Outside, the village was staggering from its intoxicated slumber. The kilns from the night before had long since burned out, and the sun's golden light cleared the treetops as people began to stir awake with thoughts of the oncoming day. The ceremony was upon them, and the final preparations thereof were starting to spring to life.

With shaking hands, Elis had cleaned up the artwork that Neris had done well in mimicking. But the dots she had chosen were for a mature woman. Final touches were needed to show the youth in her daughter's motionless face. A splash here, a prick there, coloring her dimples and tiny moles playfully. She had just started to become a young woman, but a boundless bundle of energy she had been. Even there upon the table, Elis felt like Rais could spring up at any moment, burying her flushed face between Elis's breasts as she cried and cried. Elis hoped that wherever she was, it was bright and open, free for her to explore. She hoped her real mother was there to let her say the words that Elis never got the chance to hear.

"That's better, my little one," Elis said, finishing the final touches.

Elis had cried and screamed into the little girl's dress for what seemed like an eternity. As she continued to sober, the throb of guilt and sadness dulled into an ignorable pain. The paint from her own eyes no doubt had smeared across her tear-streaked face, but she did not care. The passing moments had given her time to reflect and bask in the time they had shared together.

But beneath it all, an ember had been struck. As Elis came to terms with her daughter's death, that smoldering coal had caught wind, and its glow had grown into a flame. Someone had hurt her little girl, and whoever it was would learn what it was like to lose everything. Elis would not have wanted Rais to see her so embittered, so enraged. So, while she sat at her side, she would smile and dote upon her with a last vigil. And then she would hurt whoever did this.

"I love you, my little Rais," Elis whispered, placing her lips once more upon the girl's head. "Be happy, smile, and dance wherever you are. Your zaisure will see you again someday."

"Elis?" She heard a knock at the door, Neris's deep voice trailing the sound.

"Come in," Elis said, drawing back into her seat. Taking a deep breath, she wiped tears from the corners of her eyes and cleared her throat. "Welcome back, ne vindal."

"Had to add your own personal touch," Neris said as she stepped over to the table. Elis smiled, watching the gilded rays of the sun outline Neris's bare body as she examined her work. "She looks a bit more childish now."

"She's still a child," Elis said, grinning. "She should still look like one. If only for a little longer."

"How are you?" Neris asked as Elis turned her gaze to the Delvori woman.

"How do I look?"

"Other than the running dye? Terrible, my dear."

Elis laughed at how nonchalant Neris could be. Elis's hair was hanging to one side, smeared with dried salt and knotted from the night. She felt tired, but there was no time to sleep. Not yet.

"I'm better, thank you," Elis said, bowing her head. The fire inside her was burning, but she refused to stoke it. "Are you alright?"

"Other than a headache from lack of sleep and worrying about a certain sniveling male, quite well." Neris talked a good talk, but her eyes were just as heavy as Elis's, if not more so.

For several moments they were silent as they sat looking at each other. Elis saw the gears in Neris's head turning as her red eyes focused upon her. In return, Elis felt how exposed her inner turmoil was as Neris peered through the lavender portals to her soul. The two of them stood at the gate to some unknown peril as they looked at each other, and she felt that each one was already reaching for the last loose end.