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rainbowfic2025-10-14 08:51 pm
thisbluespirit) wrote in rainbowfic2025-10-14 08:51 pm
Vert#13 [Starfall]
Name: Storms
Story: Starfall
Colors: Vert #13 (Anchor)
Supplies and Styles: Portrait + Novelty Beads (Nightmare - frombookblather, Birthday Prompts 2020 & Waters - April Food Challenge 2024)
Word Count: 5326
Rating: PG
Warnings: Threat of drowning, sea-sickness.
Notes: Calla Island, 1313. Viyony Eseray, Leion Valerno, Lynah Allin. Continues on directly from Assignations.
Summary: Viyony's determined to get Leion off the island.
It seemed barely any time at all before Viyony found herself being gently but persistently shaken out of a dream. She clung to sleep for as long as she could, but then, unwillingly, opened her eyes to see Lynah Allin looming over her. Viyony screwed up her face against the bright morning sunshine already invading the room and dragged herself up against the headboard in a huddle of thin bed linen. "What is it?" she croaked.
"I'm so sorry to disturb you," said Lynah. She was dressed already, in a plain shirt and trousers, as she stood there, keeping the gauzy bed-hangings back with one hand. "I don't usually treat my guests this way, but I need you to go back to the mainland with Leion, and there isn't time for niceties."
Viyony swung her legs round. She felt about the bed for her robe, before she remembered Tess had stained it with Huick's blood last night. She pressed a hand to her forehead and then staggered to her feet at the same time as Hueva hurried in with breakfast on a tray. She passed it to Viyony, who took it and stared blankly, at a loss for a moment as to what she was expected to do with it.
"I need to report this incident to the authorities in Portcallan without delay," Lynah continued. "Leion's probably the best placed to do so in any case, but in the light of your suspicions, I think it'll be as well to get him off the island."
Viyony struggled without success to contain a yawn. "I see. And you want me to go with him?"
"He won't leave without you," said Lynah. "And since I believe you may have a point—I've seen that note of his now—I would rather we got him away. He'll be much safer back in Portcallan. You see, while he's here—well, have you heard of the Calla Island Exception?"
Viyony took an unwisely large gulp of raspberry tea and choked over it in her efforts to reply.
Lynah raised her eyebrows.
"Sorry." Viyony coughed, and then took a more sedate sip before abandoning the tea altogether. "I've heard people talking about it, but I've no idea what it is—only that people keep arguing about it."
"One of those quirks of history," said Lynah. "But Calla Island is in an odd position—it's belonged to my family for centuries rather than to Southern District. Partly to do with my ancestors, partly because you could say that the mainland was settled by Calla Islanders rather than the other way around. The point is that neither District nor High Council Governance have legal authority here. In the usual way, we deal with any incidents requiring official intervention and so on by us courteously reporting it to the usual authorities and they then equally courteously ask permission to act on the island, which we duly grant. But it does mean we could delay investigations through drawing out protocol. Plus, in theory, Vollo or I could act without District or High Council say so over a local problem."
Viyony gave a nod to show that she was, at least nominally, paying attention while she fought to brush her hair into something passing for its usual state.
"It occurred to me that perhaps Leion, even if he was targeted, might not have been the intended victim—maybe that was Ghalle all along, and Leion merely summoned to the spot. We have the right, the obligation even, to mete out justice, provided we can claim it was necessary to maintain order and safety here on the island."
Viyony put down her hairbrush. She frowned as she reclaimed Hueva's tray and studied the contents, which appeared to be one of last night's dishes—the fish, soft grains and sauce—rolled up in a pan wrap.
"I see what you mean," Viyony said, after a delay, still too groggy for making connections this morning. She bit into the wrap and then washed her mouthful down with cold raspberry tea. "But... surely that's up to you, and you wouldn't do it. Would you?"
Behind them, Hueva bustled about, gathering up Viyony's belongings and folding them neatly back into her case. Viyony felt, if distantly, the instinct to protest; she wanted to do that herself, thank you very much, but she had to ignore it. Let her do her job, she told herself.
Lynah paused, and then said, "It's complicated. My marriage is—more of a business arrangement. You could say Vollo bought the family out, and I can't control what he might decide was best to do in such circumstances. Which is another reason why you must be as quick as you can. The tide won't wait—and I think it would be safest to make sure Leion is away from here before Vollo returns. You do understand?"
Viyony swallowed. Leion had said something to her before about how she should talk to Lynah about making a marriage of convenience, and he hadn't meant it positively. Clearly, he had not been joking. "Yes, don't worry. I will. But, you know, I thought last thing before I went to sleep that I must have been wrong after all. Nobody knew Leion was coming here, so how could anyone have planned this?"
"Didn't they?" Lynah, on her way out, hung back in the doorway. "I was asked to invite you—and it appears that was all it took to ensure Leion would follow."
She left before Viyony could think of a response.
"That's simply not true," she said to Hueva. "I never asked him to, and he wasn't sure if he would sail over or not right until the last minute."
Hueva paid very little attention to her, her focus on arranging items in the case. She stood back and briefly surveyed her handiwork. "There, Imai Eseray. That's everything, barring night clothes and wash things. I'll leave you to see to those—someone will come for the case in a few minutes, so you had better not waste any time."
Viyony walked down the steep and winding path to the jetty that lay not far outside the grounds of Allin house. There was a boat moored there; one of the small coastal vessels that sailed between various Southern District ports and occasionally beyond. A sailor was carrying Viyony's trunk up the ramp as she reached them, and the captain was standing on the jetty, deep in conversation with Lynah and Leion. Viyony hesitated on the shore, watching as Lynah handed a sealed packet to the captain.
The captain stopped and looked across at Viyony; Lynah and Leion instantly following suit. Viyony drew her head up and forced herself to smile while her heart sank right down into her shoes. She hated sailing and always got sea-sick. She probably shouldn't have bothered with breakfast. She would be bound to part with it soon. Lynah had sent Hueva back with some medicine for her because someone—Leion, most likely, or Velin—had told her about Viyony's predilection for sea-sickness, and assured her that it was from Tamah and quite marvellous unless she badly needed a clear head for the rest of the day. But since nothing usually helped, Viyony did not put any faith in this supposed cure being any different.
She drew in a breath and then headed over the jetty's boards towards the group, her gaze straying anxiously to Leion, unsure how they stood after last night, but his face cleared immediately as she neared him, and something in her stomach unknotted itself. He waved and hurried back to meet her.
"I'd say good morning, if it wasn't morning already last time I saw you," he said. He took her hand and led her along the jetty and then up the ramp onto the ship.
Viyony let him. "I doubt it'll be a good one either. I'm afraid I shall probably be a complete nuisance all the way over."
"It won't take too long," he said as they stopped on the deck. "Let's hope the mate isn't right about the possibility of a storm!"
"Not funny, Leion." The boards dipped and rose gently under her soles, and they were still moored. Viyony sighed. It hadn't been that bad on the way here. Perhaps it would be better this time. Lynah's medicine was having some sort of effect—inwardly warming and making her head feel fuzzy in a way that was pleasantly insulating.
He hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder at an older woman who must be the mate, and then said hastily, "No. Sorry. It's the sleep deprivation. Makes the quality of my jokes nosedive."
"Oh. You were serious!"
Leion waved a hand. "The mate was, but the captain disagrees. I shouldn't worry, really. Forget I mentioned it."
Viyony glared.
The mate crossed over to them with a life-vest for her. Leion intercepted him, taking it, and then setting about helping Viyony into it. She did not protest. It was an awkward and unfamiliar garment, and she felt like the walking dead. If Leion wanted to save her the trouble of sorting out which tie fastened to which other tie, she was very happy to let him.
Leion leaned in, knotting the last cord in place, and she straightened the jacket. It had strips of light, spongy, buoyant altro wood and two specially coated air pockets at the front. "There," he said, taking a step back to survey his handiwork. "You won't drown. Now, let's get out of the crew's way."
He ushered her down into a tiny cabin. She looked around her nervously, but Ghalle's body was not there. She almost asked where it was, but if it wasn't here, it could only be in the hold. She sat down on the floor next to where one of the bunks was firmly strapped to the side. "I'd rather be on deck—in the air. It helps."
"Once we get going, of course," he said easily. "I'll hang onto you—make sure you don't fall overboard."
She couldn't even quite muster a smile. "Ha."
"You do look a bit grey at the edges," he commented, settling himself down less than an arm's length away from her.
Viyony clasped her hands together. "I shall be all right," she said. "Lynah gave me some medicine and she says it works wonders. I might fall asleep instead."
"You and me both," he said.
"Leion. What do you think about the Calla Island Exception?"
"It's an archaic holdover that should have been abolished last century. Absolutely emblematic of everything wrong with Portcallan and the High Council. Who's been talking to you about that?"
Viyony shrugged. "It came up and I wondered."
They went up on deck as soon as they could. Viyony's nausea did seem less pronounced this time, although it came and went in low waves. She wasn't much in the mood for conversation, but Leion was perfectly capable of carrying one on with only the bare minimum of assistance, so she mostly listened to him tell her about a previous visit to the island while she nodded every so often, grateful for the distraction. She leant on the rail and opened and shut her eyes by turns, trying to work out which was better or if it made no difference.
Leion put a light hand on her arm. "You're not going to pass out, are you?"
"No," she said, this time trying one eye open and one eye closed. She put her other hand up to keep loose strands of hair from whipping into her face. "Only throw up."
He directed a sidelong glance at her. "I think I'll hang on in any case, if you don't mind. I've done badly enough at keeping you safe—I'd hate to top that off by losing you over the side."
The rising sun reflected on the water, diamond lights dancing on the waves. The breeze had eased slightly and Leion's hold on her was reassuring, as was the sound of his voice; the exact words passing Viyony by and lulling her into a waking dream.
There was a storm; rain hammering down around her, the scent of petrichor rising from dry earth—she wasn't on the boat—she was up on the path along the very cliff now looming ahead of them. Thunder rumbled across the sky and she counted the seconds—one, two, three—waiting for the rain, but its was lightning that struck the ground in front of her—she fell.
She started violently and Leion's grip on her arm tightened.
"What is it?"
Viyony shook herself. "Nothing. I must have dropped off."
"Again?" said Leion. "That's twice you've slept with me this trip. And yet -"
She woke up instantly and fully, rolling her eyes at the sea. "Oh, you would say that."
Leion grinned, but then he looked beyond her, towards the crew, or maybe on, to the horizon. His expression darkened.
"What?" she said, stiffening. She raised her head and saw that the light edge of morning mist was deepening into fog around them and the roll of the boat grew sharper. The wind stilled to a whisper. The haze thickened further, dampening her face and hair, and then the first drop of rain fell, fat and hard on the boards.
The captain swung round toward the mate, issuing curt orders in a low tone that brooked no disobedience. The breeze picked up again, and then came in wild gusts. Visibility had narrowed to barely more than a length ahead of her, the coastline and sea lost in a spectral wall of grey and white.
Viyony went rigid, struggling to breathe while the crew and Leion all hurried about, pulling down sails, and making everything they could fast. She clung to the rail, although the urge to be sick seemed to have gone again. It wasn't much comfort in the face of one of the most nightmarish scenarios she could imagine. Her legs went weak under her, and only her hold on the side stopped her from an undignified slide onto the deck.
Leion put his arm around her, allowing her to steady herself. He tugged her gently but firmly away from the rail. It took all her willpower just to let go of it. Leion ushered her back towards the cabin. "In there," he said. "Go!"
Viyony shook her head. "I'd rather drown out here!"
"Not going to drown," he said. "You might get swept overboard, though, so get down there now!"
Viyony clambered back down the ladder, pausing at the bottom to hang onto it, as the boat swayed about. She fought nausea, and when it seemed that she had won for the moment, she moved across to grip hold of one of the sturdy straps that held the bunks in place, and closed her eyes. Shara spare us, she begged inside her head.
Had this sudden storm been the one she'd seen in her dream? Had she somehow brought it down on them? Viyony pressed herself against the boards behind her. "Stop it," she told herself. The dream hadn't been the same at all. She'd quite definitely been on land, and there had been thunder and lightning—and she knew, without any real sense of why or how, that it was something that hadn't happened yet.
The ship pitched about roughly. Her hand clenched on the strap and she kept her eyes firmly closed; her body taut as she focused on breathing. More wild thoughts careered through her mind. Maybe Huick Ghalle's spirit was with them, protesting over the way his body had been treated—maybe she really was cursed—maybe the crew and Leion had already been thrown overboard and she was sitting here, fretting uselessly while they drowned.
"Viyony," yelled Leion from somewhere unexpectedly close to hand. "Don't worry!"
She opened her eyes in order to glare at him properly.
"It won't last!" he shouted over the sound of the rain hammering on the roof of the cabin. It lessened slightly then, and he added, at a lower volume, "We'll be all right, I promise. It's a passing squall—the crew know what they're doing."
Viyony gritted her teeth. If she spoke, she might blurt out all her panicked fears, and Leion would despise her. She settled for giving him another dark look.
"Really!" He paused, eyeing her with concern. "The anchor's holding and where we are now—we're more in danger of getting cast up onto the sandbank than driven into the rocks. And it won't last."
She nodded, and shut her eyes again, hanging onto the strap for all she was worth. She was utterly out of her element, out of control, and she hated it. Somewhere underneath that, knowing what he said was probably true, did help a little, but her pounding heart couldn't be convinced by rationality. Unreality claimed her again: with her eyes closed, the whole experience became only a continual contextless buffeting to be endured. Leion caught hold of her other arm and she grasped his hand so tightly she must have hurt him. She wasn't sure if she sat there like that for minutes that felt like hours or hours that felt like minutes.
Fuzziness passed over her, interspersed by waves of nausea, the latter growing steadily worse. "I need to g-go back on deck!" she said, opening her eyes, and then clapped her hand to her mouth.
She must have looked awful: whatever objection Leion had been about to make died on his lips as soon as he took in the state of her. He scrambled up, his free hand gripping one of the fixtures, and then hauled her to her feet.
"I think the worst is over anyway," he said.
The boat lurched and she grabbed at him. He took a side step towards the ladder, and used that to steady them both while the vessel righted itself, and then he helped her up it.
Viyony only just made it to the side in time, and then stared weakly down at the waves, still slapping against the side of the boat harder than she liked. Lynah's magical medicine only went so far, it seemed. She gripped the rail, not yet ready to risk straightening up or pulling back. Leion put his arms around her, his hands closed together on the front of her life vest, to be sure that she didn't fall.
"See," he said from somewhere immediately above her head, while she stared downwards at churning dark waves. "I told you the storm wouldn't last."
The rain had lessened, and now became intermittent until it ceased altogether. The mist that enveloped the boat thinned to breath-like ribbons as the sun burned through and the breeze carried away the last wisps. The master moved sharply, yelling out orders—to raise the anchor, hoist up the sails—and suddenly they were travelling lightly over a blue sea in bright morning sunshine, as if nothing had ever been otherwise.
"There," said Leion, suddenly, and shifted them both to a slightly different angle, so that she could see the city ahead of them. "Portcallan at its best."
Viyony shivered, clammy in his hold. The only thing she wanted was dry land under her feet as soon as possible and never, ever to leave it again, but even as she raised her head to snap at him, the sight in front of her stole the words away.
The sun was rising above Chamber Square and High Point; the tightly clustered houses of the lower city buried in their shadow. The sunlight spread slowly, slowly, downwards as they watched, and where the morning light touched them, the buildings turned shining white, as if an enchantment had been cast; a fairy tale city gradually emerging from the night. The Calla Strait was dotted with brightly-rigged vessels—small fishing smacks, coastal trows like this one, and a larger sea-going ketch waiting near the rivermouth for a pilot's cutter that was closing in on it fast.
Leion kept one arm around her and raised the other hand to point at something. She did her best to follow his direction, angling her head so that her cheek brushed the damp wool of his thin jumper. "See, there—that's the ruins of the old Laonnic shrine on the clifftop. They say it was quite something, coming in from the sea, back in the day. Behind it, that's the Calla Tower. It really jumps out at you from this angle, doesn't it?"
Viyony breathed out. "Yes."
"It's all that's left of Calla Haven—the original settlement," he said in her ear. "Sometimes, out here, I try to imagine what it must have looked like when the first people arrived this way—over from West Korphil, or down the coast from the north—and found the haven. A thousand years and more, and here we all are still."
Viyony stared at the Tower, limned by the dawn light, taller than anything else on this side of High Point, and sailed willingly with him into his imagined past, before he ruined it by adding, "Of course, it would have been very different then, really, so you can't. The haven's completely silted up and buried under Watersgate—and the docks are over on the opposite side of the river—see there. Still, High Point was there then and at least half of the Calla Tower is genuinely ancient."
"I'll use my imagination harder, then," Viyony said. She ought to have pulled out of his hold, despite her unsteadiness, but he didn't seem to about to let her go, so she leant back against him, the life vests an unfamiliar buffer between them, and watched Portcallan grow ever nearer.
Viyony stepped off the ramp and then clung to the nearest railing, limp with relief to be standing on the solid stone slabs of the quayside. "Never again!" she promised herself. She waited there, watching as Leion and the Captain negotiated the details of offloading poor Huick Ghalle's body with a port official and a Sea Watch officer. They were joined after a few moments by someone from the High Guards and a Guardian of the Peace—everyone evidently taking murder on Calla Island very seriously indeed. She stifled a yawn and angled herself away, concentrating on tying her salt-tangled hair into a passably neat tail.
The talking ceased and assorted officials suddenly started hurrying about, the Captain of the vessel leading the High Guard on board, while the port official started yelling for a quay labourer, and the Sea Watch officer directed the Guardian to head back into the city.
Leion ambled over to join her; his face creasing in concern as soon as his eye lighted on her. Viyony stiffened. She didn't look that bad, did she?
"Well," he said, reaching her, "we've got over the first hurdle. Next I have to go to Chamber Square and make an official report, but after that, everything else will be up to whoever they put in charge of this mess. That's the part that's causing most of the trouble—they're all still arguing about jurisdiction."
Viyony opened her mouth to respond, but yawned instead.
"I was thinking," said Leion, shifting his weight from foot to foot, "Imai Diyela isn't expecting you until tomorrow. Maybe it would be kinder to warn her before we send you home looking like a wet rag."
"I don't!"
Leion raised an eyebrow. "Oh? More like a cat left out in the rain, would you say?"
"You don't look your best either."
Leion burst out laughing. "I should hope not! Don't bite my head off. I thought I could drop you at home—Mother and Tam's, I mean. It'll be empty for hours yet. You can clean yourself up and have a rest, and then we'll feed you before we pack you off home to your aunt. I'll send a message to tell her you're safe before the news of this gets out, so she won't have to worry. It should give us time to talk, too. What do you say?"
Viyony hesitated, unsure if she wanted to try resting in yet another unfamiliar room, but he had a point about Aunt Diyela—and she and Leion desperately needed a proper talk. She didn't want matters between them left hanging as they were for maybe days more until they managed to catch each other in private. "You're sure your parents won't mind?"
"Of course not," said Leion. "This way!"
The Valerno house stood on the corner of Allin Way and Great Western Street. It was taller and narrower than the Gerro house from the front, but once they walked through the gate up to the main door, Viyony found that it stretched back further than she expected. The high walls around it sheltered the ground floor—Viyony stepped gratefully into its shaded, cool hallway.
Leion led her on into the kitchen and eating area, where he hunted out a piece of scrap paper in order to scribble a note to his Mother and Tam. "Just in case," he told her. "Neither of them are likely to be here for ages and I'll warn Tam when I'm up at Chamber Square, but you never know."
Viyony turned, examining the room. The walls were painted cream and light brown and the tiles underfoot had patterns glazed onto them in matching colours. The quiet of the empty house instilled a sense of calm in her. She rested her hand on the kitchen work-shelf and relaxed for the first time since leaving Calla Island.
"I have to go," said Leion. "I'll be back as quickly as I can, but you know what officials are like. Could take hours. I'll need to stop at my place and clean up, too—but after that, I'll come right over here and we can talk. Anyway, whatever happens, you've got plenty of time to rest, and your trunk -"
Someone hammered at the door, interrupting them. Viyony jumped. Leion held out his hands. "Your case, Imai!" He disappeared back out into the hallway and returned with it. "That porter has excellent timing."
He opened up the icestone store, and poured her a cup of water from a jug kept inside it. He then offered her an assortment of food, opening cupboards and pulling items out with abandon, but Viyony refused everything. Her stomach had not yet settled, and Lynah's medicine for the seasickness was still having enough effect that she hoped she might actually sleep for a while if he left her to lie down in peace.
Leion nodded and then picked up her case. "Right, then—to the spare room."
He marched ahead of her up a short but steep flight of stairs that brought them to a square scrap of a landing with two small rooms opening off it and a narrow door at the far end which led to another staircase, this one taking them up to a larger landing area. There, Leion pushed back the door to reveal a sunlit bedchamber and carried her trunk inside, sliding sideways through the doorway.
"This used to be Arna's," he said. "If the bed's not made up, you'll find spare linen in the closet. There is a washroom through there, but it's minute. Just breathe in hard—you should be able to squeeze in."
Viyony duly smiled before thanking him. She followed him to the doorway as he strode away, and said, "Leion. You are sure your parents won't mind?
"If you don't want to stay, you don't have to," he said. "I didn't mean to hustle you into it. I only thought -"
Viyony laid her hand on his arm. "No. I'm grateful. Aunt Diyela would be alarmed, and I'd rather avoid that. But what if your parents have other plans?"
"They won't," he assured her. "It's Tam's day for the communal meal and he hates to miss it—I was invited over before I ran off to Calla Island. They'll be happy to have you, I promise. You get some rest, don't worry about anything, and I'll see you later."
Viyony remained in the doorway, listening to the sound of his footsteps disappearing down the stairs. A few moments later, the main door fell dully shut behind him and the house seemed almost to sigh and quieten in response. The window was open behind her, allowing a warm breeze to flutter the light curtains. Somewhere outside, a screen or shutter rattled while distant seabirds called raucously to their fellows on the neighbouring roofs. Viyony laid her case on the bed and opened it. She drew out her night robe, carefully wrapped up in paper on the top. Unfolding it revealed the dried blood stains on the pink silk, and she dropped it, clapping her hand to her mouth and then sinking unsteadily onto the bed. Her head swam.
She shook herself and blinked away the tears that pricked her eyes, and set about gathering up the fabric. If only she had been able to let it soak last night—she would stand a better chance now of getting the stains out. Viyony's cousin Ivina had been kind enough to lend it to her for the trip to Allin House, and this was no way to repay her. She folded the paper back over it. The only thing she could do now was to put it in salt water when she got back to the Gerro house, and hope for the laundry to work miracles afterwards. If it didn't come out, maybe she could dye it a darker colour? She could use one of Eseray's most exclusive shades to make it up to Ivina.
Viyony went into the tiny attached washroom. Inside it there was a stand with a basin next to an old-fashioned water outlet that, when she worked out how to work it, produced a trickle of warmish water that came in stops and starts. She washed her face and hands, and then dampened her hair enough to brush some of the salt and tangles out of it and re-braid it. She turned to survey the result in the sliver of mirror on the wall and then tipped the dirty water down the drain.
She lay down on the bed, but it took a while for the tension to ease out of her body. The mattress seemed to sway as if she was still out at sea every time she closed her eyes, and then, when at last she began to relax, she startled herself with a sudden burst of sobs.
She remained awake for some time after she had dried her tears—lying on top of the bedcovers rather than under them, listening to the whisper of the curtains and the low, muffled rumble of a busy street coming from outside. She must have finally drifted into sleep, because when she next opened her eyes, the sunlight had mellowed and almost shifted out of the room.
She sat up, rubbing her face with her hands—and heard the unmistakable sound of doors opening and shutting and someone moving about below her.
Leion must be back. Viyony drew in her breath, and pulled her knees in against herself. She needed to talk to him about several things—the cave, the murder, and their misfire of an assignation last night—but she wasn't sure if she was ready, particularly when it came to the latter. She had a good idea what she ought to say, but she wasn't sure how, or if she could.
Still, there was no point in hiding up here. She got up and straightened her clothes, before heading downstairs at a pace. At the bottom of the last flight, she halted abruptly.
The Valerno who wandered into the hallway to greet her was not Leion. It was his mother.
Story: Starfall
Colors: Vert #13 (Anchor)
Supplies and Styles: Portrait + Novelty Beads (Nightmare - from
bookblather, Birthday Prompts 2020 & Waters - April Food Challenge 2024)Word Count: 5326
Rating: PG
Warnings: Threat of drowning, sea-sickness.
Notes: Calla Island, 1313. Viyony Eseray, Leion Valerno, Lynah Allin. Continues on directly from Assignations.
Summary: Viyony's determined to get Leion off the island.
It seemed barely any time at all before Viyony found herself being gently but persistently shaken out of a dream. She clung to sleep for as long as she could, but then, unwillingly, opened her eyes to see Lynah Allin looming over her. Viyony screwed up her face against the bright morning sunshine already invading the room and dragged herself up against the headboard in a huddle of thin bed linen. "What is it?" she croaked.
"I'm so sorry to disturb you," said Lynah. She was dressed already, in a plain shirt and trousers, as she stood there, keeping the gauzy bed-hangings back with one hand. "I don't usually treat my guests this way, but I need you to go back to the mainland with Leion, and there isn't time for niceties."
Viyony swung her legs round. She felt about the bed for her robe, before she remembered Tess had stained it with Huick's blood last night. She pressed a hand to her forehead and then staggered to her feet at the same time as Hueva hurried in with breakfast on a tray. She passed it to Viyony, who took it and stared blankly, at a loss for a moment as to what she was expected to do with it.
"I need to report this incident to the authorities in Portcallan without delay," Lynah continued. "Leion's probably the best placed to do so in any case, but in the light of your suspicions, I think it'll be as well to get him off the island."
Viyony struggled without success to contain a yawn. "I see. And you want me to go with him?"
"He won't leave without you," said Lynah. "And since I believe you may have a point—I've seen that note of his now—I would rather we got him away. He'll be much safer back in Portcallan. You see, while he's here—well, have you heard of the Calla Island Exception?"
Viyony took an unwisely large gulp of raspberry tea and choked over it in her efforts to reply.
Lynah raised her eyebrows.
"Sorry." Viyony coughed, and then took a more sedate sip before abandoning the tea altogether. "I've heard people talking about it, but I've no idea what it is—only that people keep arguing about it."
"One of those quirks of history," said Lynah. "But Calla Island is in an odd position—it's belonged to my family for centuries rather than to Southern District. Partly to do with my ancestors, partly because you could say that the mainland was settled by Calla Islanders rather than the other way around. The point is that neither District nor High Council Governance have legal authority here. In the usual way, we deal with any incidents requiring official intervention and so on by us courteously reporting it to the usual authorities and they then equally courteously ask permission to act on the island, which we duly grant. But it does mean we could delay investigations through drawing out protocol. Plus, in theory, Vollo or I could act without District or High Council say so over a local problem."
Viyony gave a nod to show that she was, at least nominally, paying attention while she fought to brush her hair into something passing for its usual state.
"It occurred to me that perhaps Leion, even if he was targeted, might not have been the intended victim—maybe that was Ghalle all along, and Leion merely summoned to the spot. We have the right, the obligation even, to mete out justice, provided we can claim it was necessary to maintain order and safety here on the island."
Viyony put down her hairbrush. She frowned as she reclaimed Hueva's tray and studied the contents, which appeared to be one of last night's dishes—the fish, soft grains and sauce—rolled up in a pan wrap.
"I see what you mean," Viyony said, after a delay, still too groggy for making connections this morning. She bit into the wrap and then washed her mouthful down with cold raspberry tea. "But... surely that's up to you, and you wouldn't do it. Would you?"
Behind them, Hueva bustled about, gathering up Viyony's belongings and folding them neatly back into her case. Viyony felt, if distantly, the instinct to protest; she wanted to do that herself, thank you very much, but she had to ignore it. Let her do her job, she told herself.
Lynah paused, and then said, "It's complicated. My marriage is—more of a business arrangement. You could say Vollo bought the family out, and I can't control what he might decide was best to do in such circumstances. Which is another reason why you must be as quick as you can. The tide won't wait—and I think it would be safest to make sure Leion is away from here before Vollo returns. You do understand?"
Viyony swallowed. Leion had said something to her before about how she should talk to Lynah about making a marriage of convenience, and he hadn't meant it positively. Clearly, he had not been joking. "Yes, don't worry. I will. But, you know, I thought last thing before I went to sleep that I must have been wrong after all. Nobody knew Leion was coming here, so how could anyone have planned this?"
"Didn't they?" Lynah, on her way out, hung back in the doorway. "I was asked to invite you—and it appears that was all it took to ensure Leion would follow."
She left before Viyony could think of a response.
"That's simply not true," she said to Hueva. "I never asked him to, and he wasn't sure if he would sail over or not right until the last minute."
Hueva paid very little attention to her, her focus on arranging items in the case. She stood back and briefly surveyed her handiwork. "There, Imai Eseray. That's everything, barring night clothes and wash things. I'll leave you to see to those—someone will come for the case in a few minutes, so you had better not waste any time."
Viyony walked down the steep and winding path to the jetty that lay not far outside the grounds of Allin house. There was a boat moored there; one of the small coastal vessels that sailed between various Southern District ports and occasionally beyond. A sailor was carrying Viyony's trunk up the ramp as she reached them, and the captain was standing on the jetty, deep in conversation with Lynah and Leion. Viyony hesitated on the shore, watching as Lynah handed a sealed packet to the captain.
The captain stopped and looked across at Viyony; Lynah and Leion instantly following suit. Viyony drew her head up and forced herself to smile while her heart sank right down into her shoes. She hated sailing and always got sea-sick. She probably shouldn't have bothered with breakfast. She would be bound to part with it soon. Lynah had sent Hueva back with some medicine for her because someone—Leion, most likely, or Velin—had told her about Viyony's predilection for sea-sickness, and assured her that it was from Tamah and quite marvellous unless she badly needed a clear head for the rest of the day. But since nothing usually helped, Viyony did not put any faith in this supposed cure being any different.
She drew in a breath and then headed over the jetty's boards towards the group, her gaze straying anxiously to Leion, unsure how they stood after last night, but his face cleared immediately as she neared him, and something in her stomach unknotted itself. He waved and hurried back to meet her.
"I'd say good morning, if it wasn't morning already last time I saw you," he said. He took her hand and led her along the jetty and then up the ramp onto the ship.
Viyony let him. "I doubt it'll be a good one either. I'm afraid I shall probably be a complete nuisance all the way over."
"It won't take too long," he said as they stopped on the deck. "Let's hope the mate isn't right about the possibility of a storm!"
"Not funny, Leion." The boards dipped and rose gently under her soles, and they were still moored. Viyony sighed. It hadn't been that bad on the way here. Perhaps it would be better this time. Lynah's medicine was having some sort of effect—inwardly warming and making her head feel fuzzy in a way that was pleasantly insulating.
He hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder at an older woman who must be the mate, and then said hastily, "No. Sorry. It's the sleep deprivation. Makes the quality of my jokes nosedive."
"Oh. You were serious!"
Leion waved a hand. "The mate was, but the captain disagrees. I shouldn't worry, really. Forget I mentioned it."
Viyony glared.
The mate crossed over to them with a life-vest for her. Leion intercepted him, taking it, and then setting about helping Viyony into it. She did not protest. It was an awkward and unfamiliar garment, and she felt like the walking dead. If Leion wanted to save her the trouble of sorting out which tie fastened to which other tie, she was very happy to let him.
Leion leaned in, knotting the last cord in place, and she straightened the jacket. It had strips of light, spongy, buoyant altro wood and two specially coated air pockets at the front. "There," he said, taking a step back to survey his handiwork. "You won't drown. Now, let's get out of the crew's way."
He ushered her down into a tiny cabin. She looked around her nervously, but Ghalle's body was not there. She almost asked where it was, but if it wasn't here, it could only be in the hold. She sat down on the floor next to where one of the bunks was firmly strapped to the side. "I'd rather be on deck—in the air. It helps."
"Once we get going, of course," he said easily. "I'll hang onto you—make sure you don't fall overboard."
She couldn't even quite muster a smile. "Ha."
"You do look a bit grey at the edges," he commented, settling himself down less than an arm's length away from her.
Viyony clasped her hands together. "I shall be all right," she said. "Lynah gave me some medicine and she says it works wonders. I might fall asleep instead."
"You and me both," he said.
"Leion. What do you think about the Calla Island Exception?"
"It's an archaic holdover that should have been abolished last century. Absolutely emblematic of everything wrong with Portcallan and the High Council. Who's been talking to you about that?"
Viyony shrugged. "It came up and I wondered."
They went up on deck as soon as they could. Viyony's nausea did seem less pronounced this time, although it came and went in low waves. She wasn't much in the mood for conversation, but Leion was perfectly capable of carrying one on with only the bare minimum of assistance, so she mostly listened to him tell her about a previous visit to the island while she nodded every so often, grateful for the distraction. She leant on the rail and opened and shut her eyes by turns, trying to work out which was better or if it made no difference.
Leion put a light hand on her arm. "You're not going to pass out, are you?"
"No," she said, this time trying one eye open and one eye closed. She put her other hand up to keep loose strands of hair from whipping into her face. "Only throw up."
He directed a sidelong glance at her. "I think I'll hang on in any case, if you don't mind. I've done badly enough at keeping you safe—I'd hate to top that off by losing you over the side."
The rising sun reflected on the water, diamond lights dancing on the waves. The breeze had eased slightly and Leion's hold on her was reassuring, as was the sound of his voice; the exact words passing Viyony by and lulling her into a waking dream.
There was a storm; rain hammering down around her, the scent of petrichor rising from dry earth—she wasn't on the boat—she was up on the path along the very cliff now looming ahead of them. Thunder rumbled across the sky and she counted the seconds—one, two, three—waiting for the rain, but its was lightning that struck the ground in front of her—she fell.
She started violently and Leion's grip on her arm tightened.
"What is it?"
Viyony shook herself. "Nothing. I must have dropped off."
"Again?" said Leion. "That's twice you've slept with me this trip. And yet -"
She woke up instantly and fully, rolling her eyes at the sea. "Oh, you would say that."
Leion grinned, but then he looked beyond her, towards the crew, or maybe on, to the horizon. His expression darkened.
"What?" she said, stiffening. She raised her head and saw that the light edge of morning mist was deepening into fog around them and the roll of the boat grew sharper. The wind stilled to a whisper. The haze thickened further, dampening her face and hair, and then the first drop of rain fell, fat and hard on the boards.
The captain swung round toward the mate, issuing curt orders in a low tone that brooked no disobedience. The breeze picked up again, and then came in wild gusts. Visibility had narrowed to barely more than a length ahead of her, the coastline and sea lost in a spectral wall of grey and white.
Viyony went rigid, struggling to breathe while the crew and Leion all hurried about, pulling down sails, and making everything they could fast. She clung to the rail, although the urge to be sick seemed to have gone again. It wasn't much comfort in the face of one of the most nightmarish scenarios she could imagine. Her legs went weak under her, and only her hold on the side stopped her from an undignified slide onto the deck.
Leion put his arm around her, allowing her to steady herself. He tugged her gently but firmly away from the rail. It took all her willpower just to let go of it. Leion ushered her back towards the cabin. "In there," he said. "Go!"
Viyony shook her head. "I'd rather drown out here!"
"Not going to drown," he said. "You might get swept overboard, though, so get down there now!"
Viyony clambered back down the ladder, pausing at the bottom to hang onto it, as the boat swayed about. She fought nausea, and when it seemed that she had won for the moment, she moved across to grip hold of one of the sturdy straps that held the bunks in place, and closed her eyes. Shara spare us, she begged inside her head.
Had this sudden storm been the one she'd seen in her dream? Had she somehow brought it down on them? Viyony pressed herself against the boards behind her. "Stop it," she told herself. The dream hadn't been the same at all. She'd quite definitely been on land, and there had been thunder and lightning—and she knew, without any real sense of why or how, that it was something that hadn't happened yet.
The ship pitched about roughly. Her hand clenched on the strap and she kept her eyes firmly closed; her body taut as she focused on breathing. More wild thoughts careered through her mind. Maybe Huick Ghalle's spirit was with them, protesting over the way his body had been treated—maybe she really was cursed—maybe the crew and Leion had already been thrown overboard and she was sitting here, fretting uselessly while they drowned.
"Viyony," yelled Leion from somewhere unexpectedly close to hand. "Don't worry!"
She opened her eyes in order to glare at him properly.
"It won't last!" he shouted over the sound of the rain hammering on the roof of the cabin. It lessened slightly then, and he added, at a lower volume, "We'll be all right, I promise. It's a passing squall—the crew know what they're doing."
Viyony gritted her teeth. If she spoke, she might blurt out all her panicked fears, and Leion would despise her. She settled for giving him another dark look.
"Really!" He paused, eyeing her with concern. "The anchor's holding and where we are now—we're more in danger of getting cast up onto the sandbank than driven into the rocks. And it won't last."
She nodded, and shut her eyes again, hanging onto the strap for all she was worth. She was utterly out of her element, out of control, and she hated it. Somewhere underneath that, knowing what he said was probably true, did help a little, but her pounding heart couldn't be convinced by rationality. Unreality claimed her again: with her eyes closed, the whole experience became only a continual contextless buffeting to be endured. Leion caught hold of her other arm and she grasped his hand so tightly she must have hurt him. She wasn't sure if she sat there like that for minutes that felt like hours or hours that felt like minutes.
Fuzziness passed over her, interspersed by waves of nausea, the latter growing steadily worse. "I need to g-go back on deck!" she said, opening her eyes, and then clapped her hand to her mouth.
She must have looked awful: whatever objection Leion had been about to make died on his lips as soon as he took in the state of her. He scrambled up, his free hand gripping one of the fixtures, and then hauled her to her feet.
"I think the worst is over anyway," he said.
The boat lurched and she grabbed at him. He took a side step towards the ladder, and used that to steady them both while the vessel righted itself, and then he helped her up it.
Viyony only just made it to the side in time, and then stared weakly down at the waves, still slapping against the side of the boat harder than she liked. Lynah's magical medicine only went so far, it seemed. She gripped the rail, not yet ready to risk straightening up or pulling back. Leion put his arms around her, his hands closed together on the front of her life vest, to be sure that she didn't fall.
"See," he said from somewhere immediately above her head, while she stared downwards at churning dark waves. "I told you the storm wouldn't last."
The rain had lessened, and now became intermittent until it ceased altogether. The mist that enveloped the boat thinned to breath-like ribbons as the sun burned through and the breeze carried away the last wisps. The master moved sharply, yelling out orders—to raise the anchor, hoist up the sails—and suddenly they were travelling lightly over a blue sea in bright morning sunshine, as if nothing had ever been otherwise.
"There," said Leion, suddenly, and shifted them both to a slightly different angle, so that she could see the city ahead of them. "Portcallan at its best."
Viyony shivered, clammy in his hold. The only thing she wanted was dry land under her feet as soon as possible and never, ever to leave it again, but even as she raised her head to snap at him, the sight in front of her stole the words away.
The sun was rising above Chamber Square and High Point; the tightly clustered houses of the lower city buried in their shadow. The sunlight spread slowly, slowly, downwards as they watched, and where the morning light touched them, the buildings turned shining white, as if an enchantment had been cast; a fairy tale city gradually emerging from the night. The Calla Strait was dotted with brightly-rigged vessels—small fishing smacks, coastal trows like this one, and a larger sea-going ketch waiting near the rivermouth for a pilot's cutter that was closing in on it fast.
Leion kept one arm around her and raised the other hand to point at something. She did her best to follow his direction, angling her head so that her cheek brushed the damp wool of his thin jumper. "See, there—that's the ruins of the old Laonnic shrine on the clifftop. They say it was quite something, coming in from the sea, back in the day. Behind it, that's the Calla Tower. It really jumps out at you from this angle, doesn't it?"
Viyony breathed out. "Yes."
"It's all that's left of Calla Haven—the original settlement," he said in her ear. "Sometimes, out here, I try to imagine what it must have looked like when the first people arrived this way—over from West Korphil, or down the coast from the north—and found the haven. A thousand years and more, and here we all are still."
Viyony stared at the Tower, limned by the dawn light, taller than anything else on this side of High Point, and sailed willingly with him into his imagined past, before he ruined it by adding, "Of course, it would have been very different then, really, so you can't. The haven's completely silted up and buried under Watersgate—and the docks are over on the opposite side of the river—see there. Still, High Point was there then and at least half of the Calla Tower is genuinely ancient."
"I'll use my imagination harder, then," Viyony said. She ought to have pulled out of his hold, despite her unsteadiness, but he didn't seem to about to let her go, so she leant back against him, the life vests an unfamiliar buffer between them, and watched Portcallan grow ever nearer.
Viyony stepped off the ramp and then clung to the nearest railing, limp with relief to be standing on the solid stone slabs of the quayside. "Never again!" she promised herself. She waited there, watching as Leion and the Captain negotiated the details of offloading poor Huick Ghalle's body with a port official and a Sea Watch officer. They were joined after a few moments by someone from the High Guards and a Guardian of the Peace—everyone evidently taking murder on Calla Island very seriously indeed. She stifled a yawn and angled herself away, concentrating on tying her salt-tangled hair into a passably neat tail.
The talking ceased and assorted officials suddenly started hurrying about, the Captain of the vessel leading the High Guard on board, while the port official started yelling for a quay labourer, and the Sea Watch officer directed the Guardian to head back into the city.
Leion ambled over to join her; his face creasing in concern as soon as his eye lighted on her. Viyony stiffened. She didn't look that bad, did she?
"Well," he said, reaching her, "we've got over the first hurdle. Next I have to go to Chamber Square and make an official report, but after that, everything else will be up to whoever they put in charge of this mess. That's the part that's causing most of the trouble—they're all still arguing about jurisdiction."
Viyony opened her mouth to respond, but yawned instead.
"I was thinking," said Leion, shifting his weight from foot to foot, "Imai Diyela isn't expecting you until tomorrow. Maybe it would be kinder to warn her before we send you home looking like a wet rag."
"I don't!"
Leion raised an eyebrow. "Oh? More like a cat left out in the rain, would you say?"
"You don't look your best either."
Leion burst out laughing. "I should hope not! Don't bite my head off. I thought I could drop you at home—Mother and Tam's, I mean. It'll be empty for hours yet. You can clean yourself up and have a rest, and then we'll feed you before we pack you off home to your aunt. I'll send a message to tell her you're safe before the news of this gets out, so she won't have to worry. It should give us time to talk, too. What do you say?"
Viyony hesitated, unsure if she wanted to try resting in yet another unfamiliar room, but he had a point about Aunt Diyela—and she and Leion desperately needed a proper talk. She didn't want matters between them left hanging as they were for maybe days more until they managed to catch each other in private. "You're sure your parents won't mind?"
"Of course not," said Leion. "This way!"
The Valerno house stood on the corner of Allin Way and Great Western Street. It was taller and narrower than the Gerro house from the front, but once they walked through the gate up to the main door, Viyony found that it stretched back further than she expected. The high walls around it sheltered the ground floor—Viyony stepped gratefully into its shaded, cool hallway.
Leion led her on into the kitchen and eating area, where he hunted out a piece of scrap paper in order to scribble a note to his Mother and Tam. "Just in case," he told her. "Neither of them are likely to be here for ages and I'll warn Tam when I'm up at Chamber Square, but you never know."
Viyony turned, examining the room. The walls were painted cream and light brown and the tiles underfoot had patterns glazed onto them in matching colours. The quiet of the empty house instilled a sense of calm in her. She rested her hand on the kitchen work-shelf and relaxed for the first time since leaving Calla Island.
"I have to go," said Leion. "I'll be back as quickly as I can, but you know what officials are like. Could take hours. I'll need to stop at my place and clean up, too—but after that, I'll come right over here and we can talk. Anyway, whatever happens, you've got plenty of time to rest, and your trunk -"
Someone hammered at the door, interrupting them. Viyony jumped. Leion held out his hands. "Your case, Imai!" He disappeared back out into the hallway and returned with it. "That porter has excellent timing."
He opened up the icestone store, and poured her a cup of water from a jug kept inside it. He then offered her an assortment of food, opening cupboards and pulling items out with abandon, but Viyony refused everything. Her stomach had not yet settled, and Lynah's medicine for the seasickness was still having enough effect that she hoped she might actually sleep for a while if he left her to lie down in peace.
Leion nodded and then picked up her case. "Right, then—to the spare room."
He marched ahead of her up a short but steep flight of stairs that brought them to a square scrap of a landing with two small rooms opening off it and a narrow door at the far end which led to another staircase, this one taking them up to a larger landing area. There, Leion pushed back the door to reveal a sunlit bedchamber and carried her trunk inside, sliding sideways through the doorway.
"This used to be Arna's," he said. "If the bed's not made up, you'll find spare linen in the closet. There is a washroom through there, but it's minute. Just breathe in hard—you should be able to squeeze in."
Viyony duly smiled before thanking him. She followed him to the doorway as he strode away, and said, "Leion. You are sure your parents won't mind?
"If you don't want to stay, you don't have to," he said. "I didn't mean to hustle you into it. I only thought -"
Viyony laid her hand on his arm. "No. I'm grateful. Aunt Diyela would be alarmed, and I'd rather avoid that. But what if your parents have other plans?"
"They won't," he assured her. "It's Tam's day for the communal meal and he hates to miss it—I was invited over before I ran off to Calla Island. They'll be happy to have you, I promise. You get some rest, don't worry about anything, and I'll see you later."
Viyony remained in the doorway, listening to the sound of his footsteps disappearing down the stairs. A few moments later, the main door fell dully shut behind him and the house seemed almost to sigh and quieten in response. The window was open behind her, allowing a warm breeze to flutter the light curtains. Somewhere outside, a screen or shutter rattled while distant seabirds called raucously to their fellows on the neighbouring roofs. Viyony laid her case on the bed and opened it. She drew out her night robe, carefully wrapped up in paper on the top. Unfolding it revealed the dried blood stains on the pink silk, and she dropped it, clapping her hand to her mouth and then sinking unsteadily onto the bed. Her head swam.
She shook herself and blinked away the tears that pricked her eyes, and set about gathering up the fabric. If only she had been able to let it soak last night—she would stand a better chance now of getting the stains out. Viyony's cousin Ivina had been kind enough to lend it to her for the trip to Allin House, and this was no way to repay her. She folded the paper back over it. The only thing she could do now was to put it in salt water when she got back to the Gerro house, and hope for the laundry to work miracles afterwards. If it didn't come out, maybe she could dye it a darker colour? She could use one of Eseray's most exclusive shades to make it up to Ivina.
Viyony went into the tiny attached washroom. Inside it there was a stand with a basin next to an old-fashioned water outlet that, when she worked out how to work it, produced a trickle of warmish water that came in stops and starts. She washed her face and hands, and then dampened her hair enough to brush some of the salt and tangles out of it and re-braid it. She turned to survey the result in the sliver of mirror on the wall and then tipped the dirty water down the drain.
She lay down on the bed, but it took a while for the tension to ease out of her body. The mattress seemed to sway as if she was still out at sea every time she closed her eyes, and then, when at last she began to relax, she startled herself with a sudden burst of sobs.
She remained awake for some time after she had dried her tears—lying on top of the bedcovers rather than under them, listening to the whisper of the curtains and the low, muffled rumble of a busy street coming from outside. She must have finally drifted into sleep, because when she next opened her eyes, the sunlight had mellowed and almost shifted out of the room.
She sat up, rubbing her face with her hands—and heard the unmistakable sound of doors opening and shutting and someone moving about below her.
Leion must be back. Viyony drew in her breath, and pulled her knees in against herself. She needed to talk to him about several things—the cave, the murder, and their misfire of an assignation last night—but she wasn't sure if she was ready, particularly when it came to the latter. She had a good idea what she ought to say, but she wasn't sure how, or if she could.
Still, there was no point in hiding up here. She got up and straightened her clothes, before heading downstairs at a pace. At the bottom of the last flight, she halted abruptly.
The Valerno who wandered into the hallway to greet her was not Leion. It was his mother.
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Huh, interesting, I don't think I've really read much about Leion's mom yet.
What exactly did Lynah think Vollo was going to do if they didn't leave the island immediately? I wasn't super clear on that.
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What exactly did Lynah think Vollo was going to do if they didn't leave the island immediately? I wasn't super clear on that.
She didn't know; she was just worried about the possibilities if someone was targeting Leion. So it was just threat level: vague, maybe non-existent, but as she said, Leion makes sense as the person to report the incident to the mainland anyway. (There will be some answers as to what was going on here and elsewhere, I promise, but they mainly come at the end of this arc - there's 1 more segment of this Calla Island sequence to come, and from then on, things will be steadily moving to a conclusion).
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So much easier to talk to about an assignation that wasn't!
I am glad at least that Viyony's sea-intolerance is not part of a premonition of drowning. One worries about that sort of thing in these circumstances.
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Complain to his mother, why not? XD
I am glad at least that Viyony's sea-intolerance is not part of a premonition of drowning. One worries about that sort of thing in these circumstances.
No, I might do other things, but I'm not going to drown her, I promise. <3
Thank you!
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I'm glad Viyony got to see a nice view after such a bad journey!
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I love your description; I know I've mentioned that before, but it really is something spectacular. Do you have a particular way you go about writing it? I'm not as good and I'd like to learn from you.
Anyway! Mom!
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I love your description; I know I've mentioned that before, but it really is something spectacular. Do you have a particular way you go about writing it? I'm not as good and I'd like to learn from you
ahahahaha. *coughs* I may actually need to frame this comment, because I am so delighted and also gobsmacked as I find description very hard myself and am quite bad at it, and have to force it into fic with blunt instruments and then cry at the result, save when occasional inspiration strikes. So, what can I say? There's hope for us all with persistence? Especially for you, given that your writing already has such vivid, impactful and terse prose, which I admire a lot! <3<3<3
(I mean, I do try to edit and I try to make sure I do actually putr description in these days, so, er, there's that?)
Probably the truest but unhelpful answer is that I got into writing Sapphire & Steel fanfic quite intensely ages ago and it was a game changer on that front, because it was so in the moment, sensation-based and non-linear and weird and should never make too much sense, but I don't think that's transferable advice, much as I love S&S (and its fic) and wonderful as it is).