Author: VeelaChic PM
In the end, each cloud has its own Silver Lining: a collection of oneshots based on the characters of Dreamfall: The Longest Journey. Majority will be KianApril. Rated for safety.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Humor - Chapters: 2 - Words: 2,022 - Reviews: 9 - Favs: 4 - Follows: 13 - Updated: 03-19-08 - Published: 12-30-07 - id: 3979655
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: I do not own The Longest Journey.
Hey guys, for those of you who don't know me, which is probably everyone 'cause there are only 11 fics (well now 12) in this category, I'm Veela. My sister and I recently finished The Longest Journey so I decided to write a collection of one-shots based on the game. You will find that the majority are KianxApril, because I mean, how cute are they?
Most of them are romantic comedies. But this one is one of my deeper pieces. They all will vary. But, I hope you like them. Enjoy!
He'd been like that since they'd arrived. Quiet. Distant. She wasn't sure why.
The Journey Man was a lot quieter now, without the hustle-and-bustle of people coming in out. Well, people still come in and out, but not in the same way.
Once, it had been warm, open, friendly. Benrime would sit behind the bar serving drinks to travelers passing in and out. There was always a fire in the grate to heat the small tavern in the cold winters of Marcuria. There was usually card games and banter among folk. It was the closest thing she had to home in Arcadia. They would all meet upstairs. Her, Chawan, Brynn…Na'ane. Times were hard, but her home was still there. It's still there now, but…not in the same way…
It was cold, they weren't allowed to light a fire. That would alert the Azadi, and that was one thing that couldn't happen at this point and time. The lighting was dim, so that it wouldn't be seen through the boarded up windows of the tavern.
In a way the tavern suited her. Cold, boarded up. She couldn't remember it being like this before…
She preferred the old Journey Man.
They moved in here after the incident at the pier. She remembered cold, dark, falling into water that chilled her to the bone.
If Chawan and Byrnn hadn't…
…well, she didn't want to think about that. That was not longer relevant.
The pain had been unbearable. If Na'ane hadn't stayed…if she hadn't used her brand of magic to save her. She didn't know what would become of Marcuria…the Journey Man…him.
Things between her and Na'ane were alright, but…not the same. She no longer could trust the witch in the same way; their boat had sprung a leak.
Rescuing him was…hard. They high-jacked one of the air-ships to Sadir. His trial had been denied. Vamon had seen to that. He was to be sent to Friars Keep, to await execution there. However, having broken into the prison once before, it wasn't that difficult to get him out. However, now that they were all wanted criminals, they could hardly go out and recruit during the sun. Things had become…harder.
That was a fortnight ago.
They had moved into the Journey Man. Through a pathway some of the Rebellion had built for them that lead from a few places in Marcuria to the Journey Man. Only the most trusted knew about the passages.
Certain spells had been placed around and inside the tavern. So that they could make noise and remain unheard. With so many conflicting personalities under the same roof it wasn't hard for booming arguments to occur. Roper Klacks offered to help with the spells. He still remained in the ghetto.
They all had specific rooms assigned. April and Benrime had their own rooms. Kian roomed with Chawan and Brynn, neither of which was too keen on the idea but begrudgingly accepted the once-Azadi into their quarters. Na'ane too had her own quarters.
It was beginning to feel a bit more comfortable. Not by much, but…it was enough. It still didn't have the same warmth.
That was until Brynn had found it…
An old battered piano that lay on the side of the street from a newly evicted family. More families were being evicted now, a few every week. Brynn felt guilty taking it but it couldn't be just left there to get old and rust. He snuck it in under the cover of moonfall. He slipped in through the passages with the help of Chawan. Benrime had been reluctant to take it in, however agreed in the end.
It was placed in the room adjacent to main room, the one that contained the stairs that led to above. However, seeing as no one knew what to do with it, it was just left there in the corner for a bit that was until he discovered it.
She heard it as she woke up in the middle of night a few days ago. A faint sound, she would have dismissed it if it hadn't been for the fact that the tavern was usually filled with an eerie silence at night. A silence she had not grown quite accustomed to yet.
She padded out in her room, only making that gentle sound of leather combat boots across rickety floor boards. However if he was alerted to her presence on the top of the stairs he didn't show it, he just kept playing.
It was slow and gentle, not quite mournful, but somewhat sad. He fingers moved across the white keys quickly but with a certain grace that Kian always seemed to display. His light blue eyes concentrated on the keys as he played, slow and sad.
She wasn't sure if she should go closer, or risk him stopping. So, she just stood at the top of the landing, listening, taking in his sound.
It was sweet, like chamomile tea, soothing, calm. The tavern was always warmer when he played.
She wasn't sure if the others knew of his secret night concerts. Until, one night she was unable to sleep and heard the sweet playing of the piano, only to find Brynn sitting on one of the steps, listening. They just sat there for the rest of the night. Words need not pass between them.
She wanted to ask him where he had learned to play. How a once-feared Azadi solider could learn such a skill. But she never quite worked up the courage. Not knowing seemed to bring much more calm, they didn't need to talk about it.
He'd been doing that since then. Playing at night. She would always go up the stairs before he would turn and find her sitting there. She wasn't sure what type of situation that would be. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know. At least, not just yet.
Eventually his music became not quite as sad, but just as warm.
The tavern was always warmer when he played.
This is my first time writing for The Longest Journey, so give me feedback!