First sun down, how many to go?
I woke to the sounds of Falkes cries. Twelve he eats so much! Waking early, with the rise of the sun, staring up at me with such oddly dark eyes. Will they change? Shurin did not give him such hues, and nor did I.
He had hardly finished eating when Crane padded in. ‘Momma! Momma!’ He cried, so needy for the attention. He walks so well now, he is grasping such simple tasks. Cygnus though… seems behind. He does not speak much Eorzean, where as Crane seems to be able to prattle off both.
Breakfast we ate together, fresh fruits and flat-cakes. I talk with the boys more than I think I’ve talked to anyone… to my parents, to the men I obeyed back home, to Shurin on our adventures, to the souls I trained in the guard… to Oskar, or even my comrades in the Watch. I prattle on about the messes they make, the way they struggle when I clothe them, the colour of the sky that day, and how tall it could possibly be. About tiny bugs scooting by or massive beasts of legends… of how Crane should be kind to his younger brother… and how they both need to protect Falke, and their mother too.
We played outside, Falke resting in a basket starring up at the blue sky his father wished him to see. I chased Crane, squealing, around the yard, and watched Cygnus finally… finally struggle to stand… so he could stumble after us, so happy and so proud of his accomplishment.
Villagers walked by watching us, smiling at us… but no one stopped to speak with me. Are they afraid? Shurin and I had guarded them for how long…? They knew us, knew who we were. Now I return, one baby added, one man subtracted.
I would avoid asking questions too…
Later in the eve we settled in the living-room in front of the fire, pronouncing our a, b, c’s in both languages. We sang little songs, counted, while the babe cooed softly, grasping at my hair hanging wildly around my shoulders.
I tucked them in, hushed them to sleep with a story of a man and his noble bird, riding off to destiny, to lands far and unknown…
And it was only when I laid in bed, alone… that it felt wrong. The rest had been so wonderful, so nice… and now I cannot sleep with this coldness.
I tucked a dagger under my pillow, left the light by the front door burning… just to keep some hope. And when that flame finally gutted out, I had no choice but to close my eyes and hope the next eve did not bring such emptiness… to blot out the rest of the sun.
10th Sun, 1st Astral Moon, 1572
Deirdre Ta'ea 