A court of shadow and spying (Azriel X OC)

the wicked emotions

The day passed into night and Azriel and I enjoyed our togetherness. His security ran through me with every hour, he was there and he stayed.
The moon and stars streaked over Velaris, making the city glow with shimmering colours. The city literally lit up, a shining glow around it.
It shone in all its beautiful splendour, the sea glittered under the vague moonlight and ran off into the infinite distance.
And yet, on this beautiful night, I found no sleep. My thoughts plagued me, haunted me, and now that Azriel had succumbed to his fatigue and was fast asleep beside me, they found me again. Their voices, their hands. I knew why, knew why exactly today. The days had always blended into each other, hours into days, days into weeks, and weeks into months. But this one day would always take me out of my condition. It was the day where my family fell apart and we went to the Hewn City. The moments still stuck with me, when my father had disappered over the night, my mom fighting with tears and the only solution that came to her mind. A new start in a new City to forget everything that had happened. To go to the Hewn City wasn't what I had thought of, but maybe it was her way to cope.

But this day usually reminded me of all the good things we left behind. The things we lost. And how the Hewn City destroyed everything good inside me.

I slipped out of Azriel's arms as quietly and gently as I could and hurriedly began to put on some clothes before wandering through the dark house. Everything was so quiet, so still. Something you didn't find in the Hewn City. There was no peace there, no tranquillity not even at night. There was only horror.
Slowly, silently, like Azriel's shadows, I went to the front door, which, strangely enough, was not locked. However, I did not ask myself any more questions and slipped into the pleasantly cool summer night. A light breeze swept back into town from the sea, running through my hair. I breathed it in, enjoying the freshness on my skin, the salty smell of the sea.
My legs started moving, sweeping away all my thoughts as best they could, as I looked around me and saw the city of starlight at night. It had been so long since I had seen this city at night that I had forgotten how beautiful and breathtaking it really was.  My feet walked and carried me through old streets, past marketplaces, over small bridges, past stores and homes. Past cute benches and green gardens, always heading towards the sea. I was so absorbed in the city that I didn't realize that everything looked very familiar until I stopped.
I was almost at the beach now, barely a kilometre/mile away, and you could hear the light sound of the waves. The road was paved with cobblestones and a small railing decorated the edge of the road. Behind me was a row of small houses with front yards, but I already knew where I was. I walked towards the railing and ran my hand through the ornate sleeves and embellishments of it. I looked at the Sidra, which after a bend was lost in houses and then in the sea. The houses were colourfully covered and painted, baskets full of plants hung on the terraces and verandas, decorating them. They made the neighbourhood more alive, more beautiful. My eyes wandered to the sides of the street, to the houses that were so familiar to me, to the people who perhaps still lived in them. I wondered if they would still remember me.
Would Mrs. Marie remember what I looked like? Would she remember that when I was little, she had always offered me a piece of cake before I went to the market? Would she remember my face? The face of a young little girl who didn't yet know the world of monsters?
I doubted it, but the hope remained. Because these memories, these had shaped me, Mrs. Marie and her kindness had shaped me, had shown me how valuable it was to be kind, to appreciate everyone, even if they had done bad things. I remembered how often she had taken me to her place when mother and father went out. She told me stories about the people she helped, people who needed it. Would I be someone like that now, that I needed her help?
 
I closed my eyes and clung to the railing. How could I have allowed myself to come here? Everything deep inside me was screaming against it, because I was not ready. And yet, here I was. Yet I had decided to come here, even if subconsciously. There were so many memories attached to this place, both good and bad, but they were worth it. Each one had been worth growing up here.
Slowly, without opening my eyes, I turned around, holding onto the railing, leaning against it. And I breathed. Deeply and calmly and then, very slowly, I opened my eyes.
In front of me was a small house, the front yard a bit overgrown, but still kept in order, the paint was already peeling a bit from the house, but it shone warmly and invitingly just as it had before. I hugged the railing a little tighter.
The windows were dusty and dirty, it seemed as if no one had been inside for a long time. It seemed empty, there was no little sign on the door anymore, no family inhabited this house anymore.
And I was somehow glad to see it empty. Because it would have been wrong to see someone else living in the house of me and my family. I stood in front of my home, in front of the house where I lived as a small child, looking at the window from which I had once fallen because I had leaned out too far to watch the stars with my father. To the door where my mother had always waited for me after a long day at the market or at a friend's house and how she had beckoned to me before kissing my forehead and then shooing me into the house for dinner. Of the garden where we had played catch, of my old room. My dads room.
My knees went weak and I sank down the banister and knelt in front of the house that had treated me so well all these years. And my heart grew very large. It swelled; in the pain of suffering memories, the pain of being separated from that past, the pain that inflicted itself on me afterwards. But also of happiness, sadness that I had lived all those beautiful, wonderful moments with my family and that now they had crumbled like ashes. Because my family was shattered, broken, and we would never be the same as we were in that house. Never again. And that cut off my breath for a moment and I started to get up and walk again. Away from the feelings, away from the pain, the memory, the family that had once been. Away from everything that was coming at me, because that's what I was doing. I was running and had been since the moment my mother had told me we were going to Hewn City, the day she told me my father was gone.
And until now, I hadn't really stopped. My head kept running away, further and further without taking pity on me, because there was no happiness that would turn to me. Away from the panic, the fear of feeling something and not getting it back, of something greater than that. From acceptance and love.
So, I walked, moving away from my house, and when my feet felt the soft sand beneath them and I saw the sea before my eyes, I kept walking. And then just before the water, I settled down. I fell on my back, in the soft sand, the sea rushing and I looked up at the stars. To those who had given me so much support then, but now they made me frail, weak, sad. Because the one I had admired so much, the one who had taught me everything, was gone. Already for a decade. And I had long since given up looking for him. For them both.

I never really understood why my father went away, but I thought it was because of the loss of my brother. He had fought in war, my dad being to old to fight. But my brother, he was light and full of love and admiration for the Night Court and as th second war developed he fought. And he fell. The moment the letter came, our life was shattered and broken and the agony and pain had splitted our family into a half.

My dad always loved my brother dearly and when he died, I think it broke something within him. The fatherly instinct that he couldn't save his child. Maybe that's why he went away and never came back. The family would never be the same again, so why stay? It still hurted me to think about these days, to remind myself of the good old days, when everything was fine and we enjoyed a nice dinner outside in the garden.

The picture of my brother was no longer clear in my mind, due to him being several years older than me. He was an adult, while i was still a child. But I remembered him, his strong deep voice, his laugher and the carefullness he touched and spoke to me. He was always so tender, especially with his sister. But these days were in the past.

And now I looked into the endless emptiness of the sky, speckled with the small and large constellations that I could name.
And then I breathed again. In and out, in and out. But nothing stopped the overcoming wave of sadness that wrapped itself around my heart, that constricted my throat, and I could do nothing as the tears poured down along my cheeks onto the sand. I just looked at the constellation, which had been my dad's favourite. And tears ran down my cheeks as I wished he would just return from wherever he was. Whatever he was doing, I couldn't shake the desperate hope that he missed me too. That he was also thinking about his daughter, who had loved him more than anything, about the family he had abandoned.
And as the moon shone down on me, I felt for the first time, horribly sad for myself.
Because of the loss i went through alone, because no one was there when the deep pits of my own darkness searched me and i had to cope and deal with it.
The family, the dinners and the birthday parties we celebrated, it all crashed down on me, before my inner self and it showed me my life story all over again.
The waves crashed against the sand, the wind flew across my flushed face.
And as the memories came, I continued to cry.