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| Details |
| Author: | Athena |
| Summary: | Somehow, time has passed, and the Aspenwood Twins have turned 30-years-old. As is appropriate and traditional, their family hosts a quiet family get together on the day, with the new inclusion of Silvestre Silentstep as Cressidha's suitor. 3300~ words. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
It's a windy autumn day at the Aspenwood Vineyard house. Mordecai and Cressidha are seated on opposite ends of a three-person couch in the piano room.
Cressidha does not look any older than she did yesterday, but she is thirty years old now. She fidgets idly with the snowflake pendant around her neck and does not check her watch.
Mordecai is wearing a warm sweater with the design of a Winter Veil tree on it. He's a little early, holiday-wise.
Colson is at the piano — not actively playing now — sifting slowly through the collection of songs. He's in a well-tailored suit (jacket off, because this is a Casual Family Gathering, and he is Casual Colson) that thematically matches with Cressidha's dress. He also looks no older than the day before, but there's something about how settled he seems, a peace and self-assurance that wasn't there five years ago that makes thirty seem like it fits him well.
"Do your parents play?" Mordecai asks quietly, nodding towards the piano.
"Mother does. She learned when she was young, as is appropriate, but it is of moderate interest. I believe she plays at times simply to ensure she still remembers how. Father can do one song, which he has fully memorized and can play on command at any time," Colson answers, and taps out an extremely simple, first-song-learned sort, played entirely with one hand and uses only five of the keys.
Mordecai smiles dreamily. "Maybe I could learn an easy song like that."
There's a tap at the door, and Ms. Auden's voice: "Silvestre Silentstep is here."
"Come in," says Cressidha, rising from the couch. Mordecai quickly stands because Cressidha is standing.
Colson rises gracefully from a stand, in sync with his sister, even though she's at his back. He steps around the piano seat politely.
Sil is waiting just outside the door, wearing a burgundy casual suit and carrying one of the bags Cressidha made for him in one hand. It doesn't look like there's much in it, but really with these magic bags it's anyone's guess. He raises a hand to his hair before the door opens, maybe a nervous attempt to tidy it, but all it does is shake a lock down over his forehead.
"Silvestre, good afternoon," Cressidha says warmly, beckoning him inside. She eases back down into her seat.
"Hello, Sil." Mordecai gives him a little wave.
"Sil, good afternoon," Colson says with that characteristic faint smile.
Sil's own warm smile brightens as he moves into the room, shifting the bag casually under his arm. "Good after— I mean, happy birthday, Sidha and Cole! And good afternoon, Mordecai, and all three of you. It's good to see you all well — we haven't all of us been in the same place in a while, it seems like."
Sil notes the couch with the spot between Cressidha and Mordecai and takes one step toward it, but then he looks over at Colson with a faint question in his eyes. That might be Colson's seat.
Colson catches the question well enough to answer it more easily as he sits back down once more at the piano, facing outward to the loveseat rather than the keys.
"So it would seem. Thank you for the birthday wishes," Colson says politely, but with warmth.
"We were at the pumpkin festival, um, but it was pretty crowded." Mordecai smiles and tilts his head towards the center of the couch. "And we were in disguise."
"Thank you," Cressidha says. "Do we seem thirty to you? Time passes so quickly."
"True, Sidha and I were undercover as elementals. And I don't recall either of you, but there was a pumpkin and a sheep I think I saw in the area," Sil says with a grin. He then takes a seat next to Cressidha and looks over at her with a fond light in his eyes. "So far, I think you still seem very much yourselves, you and Cole both. Maybe yourself at thirty is much like yourself at twenty-nine. Won't be too long till I'll be joining you in the thirties, so then you can see if you spot any sudden changes from your vantage point."
"Ah, of course. Well, if you happen to turn into a pumpkin or sheep yourself suddenly on the midnight eve of your 30th, we will be sure to say something," Colson says with such seriousness that he can only be joking.
Mordecai makes a faint sound of amusement. "Our disguises were successful," he stage whispers to Colson.
"I'll trust you on that," Sil says with a chuckle, bringing his bag around to his lap. He looks over at the piano. "Were you playing, when I got here?"
"Colson was," Cressidha says. "Would you like to hear something in particular?"
"There are some songs here I am familiar enough with to play, if you would like," Colson says.
Sil flashes a quick grin in Mordecai's direction, and then looks from Cressidha to Colson. "Oh, well, I wouldn't want to… I mean, if there's something you'd like to play." He pauses to tap one hand on the bag. "Though I should mention I brought birthday gifts, before I forget. Nothing big, just little things I got thinking of you."
"Oh? That's very kind of you. I am now curious and would like to see immediately." Cressidha folds her hands in her lap.
"Ah, well, then, I would hate to keep you waiting," Sil says, and he carefully retrieves two small packages from his bag. They are both wrapped in dark blue paper and tied with shiny silver string. He sets a little box on his lap and first holds out a package of a less-defined shape to Cressidha with both hands. The package crinkles a little as he holds it, showing whatever within is soft. "You can open it right away — I do hope you like it."
Cressidha accepts her present gingerly and pulls one end of the string until it unravels. She unfolds the wrapping paper very neatly.
Inside, folded neatly, is a little scarf of soft, very fine wool. The color is a gentle tan, fading at the ends, where small white feathers are worked into the weaving. The overall effect is to give the impression of a gryphon.
"It's shed feathers, only, I confirmed," Sil says, watching her expression. "I just… thought it was cute, and it reminded me of Outland, and Quickfeather. And maybe useful here soon, as the weather turns."
Cressidha runs her hand along the wool, pleased. "Oh, it's gryphon colors. How lovely. Thank you, Silvestre." She wraps the scarf around her neck, even though it doesn't match her current outfit.
Sil relaxes a little against the back of the couch, watching Cressidha's reaction with a pleased smile. "I hope it keeps you warm, when the winter comes on." He then lifts the wrapped box, a rectangular-shaped one slightly larger than his two palms, and offers it over to Colson. "This one's for you."
Colson accepts his present gracefully, with a faint smile. "Thank you." He unwraps and unboxes slowly and carefully, in no visible hurry, but his attention on the box itself suggests something of anticipation.
Inside the box, the gift rests, wrapped in a protective cloth. It is a sturdily built water bottle, constructed of metal but with leather around the base where one's hands might hold it. The metal is engraved with careful geometric patterns, and on the center of each side is a stylized engraving of a whiptail.
"It's um… well, it's from Uldum," Sil says hopefully. "Supposed to be insulated, so cold water stays cold. I reckon they'd know how to work that up. Of course as long as Sidha's nearby, not needed, but I thought it might come in handy sometimes. Also, insulated, so… might be nice for hot chocolate in winter, too."
"Ah," Colson says, pleased. He smiles at Sil, wide and bright enough that anyone might notice it. "Thank you. This is remarkably thoughtful, and useful. I will cherish it, and use it."
Mordecai beams at both of them. "You're very good at picking things out for people," he says to Sil. "I just made cakes this year."
"Cakes, plural?" Cressidha asks, looking at Mordecai.
Mordecai nods. "I made you each a birthday cake." This is no surprise to Colson, because the two of them live together, but it seems to be news to Cressidha.
Sil smiles at Colson, and then a little bashfully at Mordecai. Then he brightens at the mention of cakes.
"Are they different flavors, for each?" Sil asks curiously. "I bet they're delicious — you're an excellent baker."
Mordecai nods, accepting the compliment humbly. "Yes. Thank you. Nothing catastrophic happened, so they should be good."
Colson meticulously repackages his water bottle back into its box, for safekeeping. "Forgive me, but I am not certain I recall, when is your birthday, Sil? I confess, I believe I wrote it down somewhere once, but a few of my older notebooks were lost last year."
"Oh, uh, it was a little over a week ago," Sil says with a laugh, running a quick hand through his hair. "I'd forgotten it was even coming up till Sidha told me happy birthday."
"October twenty-third," Cressidha fills in, nodding.
"Ah," Colson says. He doesn't seem embarrassed or chagrined, as he then promptly pulls out a notebook with a decorated pencil drawing of a Wild Lupine flower, to note the date neatly. "Then I will wish you a belated happy birthday today, and I shall remember it for next year."
"Thanks, I'll try, too," Sil says, with a grateful glance towards Cressidha. Back to Colson, he adds, "I'm twenty-seven this year. Really kind of neat that the days ended up so close together…" he pauses, and looks over at Mordecai. "I'm not sure I recall when yours is."
Mordecai looks a little taken aback. People paying attention to his birthday is not common. "Oh, um, November eleventh. Soon."
"All four of us, close together," Sil observes, smiling at Mordecai, though his gaze looks a little concerned at the reaction. "That's pretty neat. Do you… not like people knowing about your birthday?"
Mordecai tilts his head. "I don't mind. I'm not really planning anything special for it, though."
"Still, I'd like to get you something, to commemorate," Sil says, resting his hands back in his lap. "And I could let Aze know, too, if I run into her before then. I mean, if you haven't. I bet she'd want to wish you a happy one."
"Oh, well, if you want," Mordecai says, ducking his head with a small smile. "I haven't told Aze, um, I suppose because I assumed she doesn't have a calendar."
Colson smiles gently at Mordecai, and then turns his gaze to Sil. "Was she doing well the last time you two met?"
"Yeah, that was like two weeks ago, ran into her while I was out with Nate," Sil says to Colson, then adds, "She seems… like maybe life in Stormwind suits her." He turns to Mordecai to add, "And maybe she's worked out some way of figuring dates, because she's found some work locally."
Mordecai nods. "I, um, I didn't mean to imply that - well, I shouldn't have assumed that…" The blind person can't read a calendar? That's probably where he's going with this.
"Perhaps that might be a useful gift to give her come Winter Veil, if we might find something that she can use for the tracking of dates that will facilitate or make easier whatever method she has currently been using," Colson says gently.
Sil nods agreeably, and says, "It's a fair assumption. I think if I asked how she managed, she'd probably just say it was fine and not to worry about it. Even so, I bet she'd appreciate the gift. She still wears that cloak from years ago," Sil turns slightly to smile at Cressidha, "the red-black one you made?"
Cressidha nods. "It should still be in good condition, I hope. Perhaps I should make her a new one for Wintersday…"
"Have you been working in Uldum recently?" Colson asks Sil. "I have been thinking of the Ramkahen as of late, in light of the recent revelation of the pandaren. I have wondered how they both must feel, having found the world suddenly so much larger than they thought, and adjusting to our incoming influences."
"I've been spending time here and there," Sil says with a nod. "I spent a little time in Uldum back in September, to see how they were faring since our time with squad. You know, since the war against the Neferset was resolved. Things seem… much the same there as when we were all out there with squad, except more peaceful. The Ramkahen have welcomed in the survivors from Orsis. All of them seem pretty content to stay in their desert for now, and there hasn't been so much travel of pandaren that I noticed — I guess they'd been sealed off for so long, maybe they prefer their corner of the world by now."
Cressidha nods thoughtfully. "I've not kept in touch with any of the Neferset." She isn't the best at keeping in touch with anyone, though.
"Hm." Colson nods thoughtfully. "It took some time for much of the kaldorei to venture outside of their own lands, after the discovery of them, and the decimation of their World Tree not so long after that discovery. Perhaps both Ramkahen and pandaren will feel more comfortable traveling after they are certain of the health and well being of their homes."
"That's true — lots of kaldorei around Stormwind these days," Sil says, smiling at the twins. "I hope that maybe one day there'll be lots of Ramkahen wandering the Trade District, too. I think it's only a good thing, having a variety of people about in the Alliance. Different ways of thinking, ways of living. It makes things interesting."
"I agree. Time and again we have proven that Azeroth is at our best when we work together as a whole, when we embrace the truth that we are all children of the Light, no matter what banner we may be born under," Colson says in that calm certainty of quiet, unshaken faith. "Have you been considering traveling to Pandaria?"
"I have thought of it," Cressidha says. "I do not wish to end up… recruited to fight the Horde by virtue of being a part of Cobalt Company in the right place at the wrong time."
Sil leans back, looking over at Cressidha, and nods. "It sounds really interesting over there — and I've spent some time at their embassy in Stormwind, asking questions about the pandaren culture and history and everything. I'd like to see it, but… we're mercenaries, and they've said conflict is dangerous, and the Horde's there… are you two thinking of traveling there?"
"Not as yet. The erosion of trust and stability within the Church of the Holy Light, and therefore for some, in the Light itself, is a wound still felt by many from the actions of Twilight's Hammer. It will heal, with faith and patience, and this is where our paths have alighted, to guide and provide both. I believe we are where we are meant to be, and if that changes, I have faith that the Light will show us the new path," Colson says gently.
Mordecai nods. "Honestly, I'm very busy," he admits. "I've been stubborn about writing my own sermons as much as possible, and the writing is genuinely harder than the public speaking at this point."
"It makes a difference, I think," Sil says, smiling at Mordecai. "People can tell when you're speaking from your heart. I think people need that honesty, especially the ones that believed in him and then heard secondhand about the betrayal… they'll be doubting themselves and their own hearts as much as the Light."
"Yes. As with many things, it is easy, and often quick, to inflict a wound, but healing takes as long as it takes. Betrayal of trust makes it harder to trust again, and it might never be precisely the same as it was before," Colson says, rubbing at his right palm with a thumb in the center, though his eyes remain on the others. "The Church of the Holy Light needs a beacon of hope, and Mordecai is that. And, while we are here, we can also tend to our garden, and our new home."
Mordecai begins to reach out towards Colson, but Colson is on the piano bench and his arms are not stretchy enough. He drops his hand. "Archbishop Lothering is doing well too, I think. It's never just me."
As Mordecai begins to reach towards Colson, Sil slips his hand towards Cressidha's as if by reflex. "There's always more than just the one, but every person matters. And it is nice, to get to spend time around home, catch up with family and friends and hobbies." Sil pauses, his gaze going a little distant, and adds, "Do you miss it sometimes, being in the field? Not everything, of course, but… parts of it."
Cressidha sets her wrapping paper on the arm of the couch so she can hold Sil's hand. "I have done some smaller assignments locally, but nothing quite on the scale of squad work. Hm." Maybe she needs to think about whether she misses it or not.
"Ah." Colson is quiet for a moment, as he thinks through the question, evaluating it with consideration. When he speaks, it's slowly, as if he is carefully selecting each word. "What I value most of my time in the field is the opportunity to help others, and be part of the Light's work and design. If I felt I was not being of use in that aid, I believe I would miss that work dearly. When I came to Cobalt Company, it was entwined with the search to find purpose and meaning in an occupation once more. At this time, I believe that I am still doing that work, and being of use for those who need that help, and so I am content enough that I do not feel as though I miss that fieldwork. I feel no envy when I read the newsletters, that I was not there.
"However, if I were to hear a call to action, if my services were needed, I would be more than pleased to offer them once more, for such worthwhile work. I am aware that I can only be in so many places at once, and that the best I can do is decide where I should be with the knowledge I am granted at the time," Colson says.
"That's a good way to think of it," Sil says, curling his hand in Cressidha's. "I used to struggle with that sometimes, up in Northrend, though it wasn't envy exactly. It felt like so many things were happening, and I was failing by not helping with all of them. I think I've gotten better at setting that way of thinking aside, accepting my limits, and knowing that there are other people who'll fight on where I do not."
Mordecai nods approvingly. "You weren't failing anyone," he agrees.
Colson sets a hand around his bicep, moving a finger along that suggests he's referencing the tattoo beneath it. "'Can't always be the one / to heal everything / and the weight of the world / was never yours to keep.' Bishop Darwill. I chose it for it is a reminder I must often make to myself, and I have not always been able to keep to the wisdom of it." He smiles faintly. "Perhaps this decade it shall be easier."
"I think that's a good quote to remember, maybe for everyone," Sil says with a smile. “You've got ten years to see.”