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by on May 2, 2020 at 12:02 am
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out. His grip loosened. The void was there as always.

The void.

It was how he’d come to describe it lately – this feeling he’d been carrying for awhile now. It was like a small black hole located somewhere near his stomach, threatening to suck everything in. Sometimes it nearly did, bringing him to his knees as the world swirled around him and dragged him down, down, down… Usually though, it left him empty, a small hole that he lived with daily, always threatening to swallow him at a moment’s notice. He could still hear the yelling.

“When is he going to grow up?!”

How long had the void been there? Was it always there? It took him so long to notice it. He was always so busy trying to sort out everyone else’s feelings. For as long as he’d been awake, he’d found it a struggle – the sea of feelings, he called it. A mess of tears and laughter and scorn, all felt at once. Whose feelings were whose? Were they his feelings the whole time? How can you notice a hole when it’s so often filled by others?

“I worked so hard to get him a good job! And an excellent mentor -I raised that blacksmith myself, he’s family!”

He’d slept in his clothes again. They felt… dewy. Ugh. He tore them off, and started searching for new ones. The room, his room, was a disaster of clothing piles, trinkets, sketchbooks, metal work, and books. His hands searched the piles for something fresher, deftly navigating through all the junk. They stopped for a moment on a book, hidden in the folds of clothes. “The Tales of Albeni” – an adventure book he’d bought off a traveler with what was supposed to be his waypoint fare to the market. He’d had to walk to get groceries that day. Ascon was furious.

Tora let his fingers trace the book’s worn leather binding a moment before he set it aside to keep searching. He settled on a wide sleeved lace-up shirt, and a pair of black slacks. The shirt was a bit stained, but he still liked it. Good enough.

“He’s been here too long! No sapling stays with their menders past age two! It’s just not normal! How is he supposed to enter society if he can’t even keep a job?!”

There was no such norm. Plenty of saplings stayed with their menders for long past two years. It was just Ascon’s norm. The man treated raising saplings like a business, and he was proud of how fast he could get them out the door. Hayle was the youngest at one year so she was exempt from judgement, but Tora and the rest of their siblings were two and thus had to leave. Many had left already or were in the process of. All but Tora who’d messed things up like usual -the family weed in Ascon’s garden of prized flowers.

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by on May 2, 2020 at 12:04 am
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The void in his stomach whirled violently.

“And he’s leaving it for some shady guild we know barely anything about?!”

Like he was going to tell Ascon what they were about.

“I know you mean well, buttercup.”

Ascon’s tone suddenly went soft and sweet, the way it always did for Hayle.

“But you just can’t keep defending him! He needs to stop being so selfish and disrespectful! Always keeping secrets, why doesn’t he tell us anything? How am I supposed to trust him when-”

Right, so no breakfast. He wasn’t touching that. Tora grabbed his coat off his desk, swung it on, and reached for the window. His room was on the second floor of a swirling complex of woody pods nestled in the back of the Pale Tree’s branches. The only way down was by a series of vines hanging by his window. Like rainwater, he slid down them and landed in the grass below with barely a sound. Ascon had yet to figure out that he could do that. Ascon was not going to find out.

The house had quieted. Perhaps Hayle had managed to finally quell Ascon’s anger. Now all he could feel from the house was disappointment, shame, loathing – but was it Ascon or…?

Tora felt a sharp tug from his stomach. Home had always been… tumultuous, even before he’d joined the guild against Ascon’s wishes. A constant barrage of anger, shame, loneliness, sorrow, and so much loathing, even in its quietest moments.

Hayle told him there was love too, but he could never find it. He wasn’t sure he knew what love felt like at all. Could other sylvari feel it better? Did his home seem brighter to them? Or could they tell his home was a dark hole too? Was that why they placed them so far in the back of the Garden of Noon that barely anyone else was around?

Or was it because…? Tora stopped at the wooden sign placed out front.

“Ascon, Special Care Mender for Special Needs Saplings” it read.

Tora stared at the familiar words etched neatly into the wood. “Special Needs Saplings” meant saplings that were mistakes, Ascon made that clear enough. Maybe the rest of The Grove thought that too…

Does it even matter anymore? With a sharp inhale, he broke his gaze from the sign and started making his way to the nearest waypoint.

It was a long walk, and not one he was fond of. Getting out of The Grove was always the hardest part, and the sea of feelings would swallow him as soon as he was far enough into the city. He stopped only once to check his reflection in the large pools of water at The Grove’s base, the point where the sea was weakest.

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by on May 2, 2020 at 12:06 am
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That was a mistake. A small plant looked back at him from the water. He looked like a foolish little sapling, wearing human clothes. A proper sylvari grows their own clothes. The void whirled. It wasn’t even good clothes, all wrinkled and messy from being clumped on the floor. If he was imitating his human heroes, it was a cheap imitation. The sapling was scrawny and weak looking too, with a nose that was too big, pointy – not cute at all. He looked like trash. I’m so gross. The void swirled viciously. And useless. It started to pull. This is why no one… It gave a violent tug and Tora stumbled.

He looked away, blinking back tears and shaking. I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m not gross. He didn’t believe that. He was breathing too fast. Baya doesn’t think you’re gross. That was true. She doesn’t think you’re useless either. His breathing slowed. Baya said he was beautiful. He remembered the way she said it, could still feel where her fingers had lingered as she spoke. Sap pounded in his ears, and he felt his face flush. She was Soundless, as her whole guild was, so he couldn’t feel her at all, and yet somehow, whenever she was around… he felt wanted. The void slowed.

He pressed on, checking his pockets for change as he made his way to the waypoint, swimming through every emotion possible. Resentment, embarrassment, fear… his? Maybe? There was enough fare to get him to the swamp but it’d be a one-way trip. That was fine. Was it fine?! He felt anger, joy, excitement, annoyance… No, those weren’t his. Sorrow, pity, boredom… Not his, not his. Confusion. Probably his?! He couldn’t reach the waypoint fast enough, practically leaping into it on sight.

Then he took it and the sea of feelings washed away, replaced with blissfully nothing but his own feelings to contend with. He felt a rush as he left the waypoint and made his way through the swamp, to Baya’s wooden house they used as headquarters. Tora stopped at the door, poised to knock, his heart pounding.

The void was silent.

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by on May 9, 2020 at 12:00 am
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Warning: Contains emotional abuse, heavily implied sexual assault, and implied physical abuse

Tora looked out from the darkest corner of Baya’s dining room, surveying his fellow guild mates from a safe distance. Needles, Sheridan, and Bogs played cards at the roughly made wooden table. There weren’t enough chairs so one of them sat on a crate. They were engrossed enough in their game that they paid him no heed. Birr and Ebril stood aways from them by the door, chatting in whispers, and occasionally throwing Tora looks. He wasn’t sure he liked those looks. His back sank further into the wall, its wooden planks creaking in protest.

The guild was not what Tora expected. Not a charming band of adventurers doing good while on the fringes of society.  Not a group of well-meaning misfits bonding over shared misfortunes. They were not the characters from his books, but he wasn’t sure why he thought they would be. Reality was never as good as fiction.

He’d been officially in the guild for almost a month, and it had been… rough. Confusing? Scary. Even Baya proved to have her own surprises, some he’d discovered the very day he joined. His eyes glanced involuntarily to the staircase leading to Baya and Darach’s room and he tensed. She hadn’t mentioned Darach until he joined.

“This is my husband, Darach” she’d said. “He’s not a real talkative type, are ya darlin’?”

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by on May 9, 2020 at 12:02 am
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The hulking tree of a sylvari grunted from behind Baya in response as she went on.

“And he’s real protective of me, see? Don’t like sharing.”

Tora still remembered the feeling of sweat forming on the back of his neck, Darach’s shadow looming over him, and the slow creep of heart break as he realized how silly his feelings for Baya had been. He hadn’t anticipated what would happen later. How Baya would lead him to her room while no one was watching. How Darach was asleep barely a foot away. How he’d begged her not to. How she didn’t listen.

….Baya had surprises.

She’d tell him later how she couldn’t help it, that she needed it, and that Tora made her feel more alive than Darach ever did. She’d tell him of Darach’s cruelty and possessive abuse. He believed every word, even if he wished she’d…

Tora slumped against the wall, finally breaking his gaze from the staircase. She hadn’t done anything like that since, and Baya was often so sweet when they were alone. Maybe she got it out of her system? What she really needed was help. The whole guild did.

It was knowing this that kept Tora so convinced to make things work. It was a guild of broken and hurt people, but Tora was broken and hurt too. Maybe things were uneasy now, but he could change that. He just needed to try harder, and with time… Maybe he could make them laugh? Bring some fun back into their lives. Maybe make a community of them, a place to belong, a family.

He’d certainly been trying to: cracking jokes or trying to start conversations here and there. Usually his attempts were met with wary looks and uncomfortable silences. Only once did it seem like he’d broken through to someone, but… Tora gave a cautious glance at the tall willowy figure of Ebril standing across the room. He remembered how friendly Ebril had been, the excitement he felt to finally be talking with someone. Then how quickly that changed, and Ebril was suddenly too friendly, his voice too sweet, and his hands too… touchy. He remembered Baya, grabbing at Ebril’s wrist and tightening her grip till it made an audible snap. She smiled as she did it, the way she always did.

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by on May 9, 2020 at 12:04 am
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“Ya can’t be so friendly with em,” she told Tora later. “They’s good weeds, but they’s still weeds. You act sweet and sugary while yer still a fresh sap and they’ll eat you alive.”

That wasn’t something Tora wanted to believe, so he kept trying anyway. Just maybe not with Ebril. And only when Baya was around. It just… felt safer.

She’d be back soon, or he hoped she would. Today he’d meet more members of the guild, and that meant new chances. They couldn’t all be wary and cold or strangely too sweet. He’d reach someone. He just had to try harder.

And so he tried.

When Baya returned with two members he hadn’t yet met, Tora nearly sprung from the wall to greet them. There was Zed, a rather bushy looking fellow, and Pepper, a sleek-looking young sylvari with a face full of bright green foliage. He peered down at Tora with two bright purple eyes peeking out like small gems from beneath his leafy brows.

“Wow! You have beautiful eyes!” Tora’s eager voice sung out loudly. The room fell silent as all eyes turned to Pepper whose face flushed with embarrassment. He mumbled something in response and looked away as a few of the thieves laughed. Tora’s heart skipped a moment – he’d gotten a response! He felt such a thrill he hadn’t noticed Baya’s smile waver ever so slightly.

Pepper disappeared after that day.

Baya too, was gone. No one could tell Tora why, nor did they seem particularly interested. She showed up a day later but offered Tora nothing as far as where Pepper went.

Then Pepper showed up three days after that, and Tora’s heart sunk at the sight of him. His right eye had been gouged out of his face with what looked like a knife. There were several cuts across the right side of his face besides, healing but swollen. The green foliage that covered his face only covered half now, with every leaf near his wounds either gone or wilting into an ugly purple.

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by on May 9, 2020 at 12:06 am
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Tora felt his skin go cold as he studied the cuts on Pepper’s face. He could almost feel the dagger that made them, smell the poison they were dipped in that made Pepper’s leaves wilt so… see the sculpted rose on the dagger’s hilt.

*

“Why did you do that?”

Tora asked her when they were alone later, out in the swamp where no one could see them. Baya didn’t look at him.

“Do what?”

“Baya, you cut his eye out! And his face, he-” he felt sick. “That was your own special poison. He’s never growing anything back.”

“What did you expect me to do?” Baya asked cooly. She still wouldn’t look at him, idly tossing rocks across the water. “‘Beautiful eyes’, you said?”

“W-What-”

“Can ya blame me?!” She finally looked at him, fire burning behind her eyes. “What am I t’do with ya?! Yer so ready to jus throw sugar at the drop of a copper! I leave ya alone for five minutes and ya go off flirting with jus anyone! Yer no better than HE is!”

That stung.

“I’m not-”

“Yer not?! I already got me a weed who tells me lies and goes off t’be sweet on others, I dun need another!”

“I’m not Darach!”

“Do ya even love me? Why should I believe ya, when yer so quick ta tellin’ sweet things ta jus any young thing?!”

“Of course I love you, Baya, please!” His voice was pleading, how desperate he wanted her to believe him. “I love you so much it hurts. I… You’re my everything.”

He reached for her hand and held it tight. Her shoulders slumped.

“Always such sweet words. How am I s’posed t’stay mad at you?” She stroked his cheek with her free hand. “That’s the trouble with you though. Yer a real charmer. Don’tcha get it? Even if ya don’t mean nothin’ by it, it don’t mean others don’t get the wrong idea. What am I s’posed ta do?”

He hadn’t thought of that… He remembered Ebril with his too touchy hands. Had that been his fault? Was he really so clueless? And Baya… he thought of the staircase leading to her room, felt his shoulders shake from the fear he had felt back then… was that why she?

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by on May 9, 2020 at 12:08 am
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“And I can’t help it,” She sighed. “Yer words drip with nectar and I want every drop fer myself. Yer a real charmer, Tora. If I let ya, you’d charm every plant in this forest. Thas why I don’t want you talkin’ with no one else. I’m a selfish weed and I know it, but I can’t help it.”

Tora could feel his heart breaking looking at her. How badly he wanted her not to feel that way. After what Darach put Baya through though, of course she did, and he felt foolish for not realizing how his actions were hurting her. He’d been so focused on trying to make friends, he hadn’t noticed… He had to try harder for her. He needed to be better. If he could just get her to believe him, maybe she wouldn’t be so insecure. Maybe she wouldn’t feel like she had to hurt others. Maybe if he tried harder…

She took her other hand from his and held his face close to hers. He felt his heart pounding in his ears.

“I want all of you,” Baya said. “And I don’t like sharing.”

Tora swallowed hard, thinking of the dagger he’d made for her with the sculpted rose at its hilt.

If I just try harder.

He thought of Pepper’s torn, ragged face.

If I just-

The staircase.

Maybe she won’t…

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by on May 16, 2020 at 12:00 am
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Warning: Contains talk of emotional abuse

“TORA!! COME ON!” It was Ascon, his mender, crying and screaming at Tora’s doorstep. He wailed and pounded on the pod where Tora now lived, but it refused to bloom open and let him in. When Tora had moved, he’d chosen the plant that was his home for that very reason: it opened for no one but him. Ascon wasn’t getting in, and Tora, desperately pretending to be asleep in his small pile of leaves for a bed, was doing his best not to let him.

It was painful, listening to the screaming go from rage to sorrow and back again. He felt such a strong urge to just open the door, throw his arms around his father and apologize for… for everything, just everything. To tell him to stop crying, that he’d be good again, he’d be better for him, he’d…

Then all of the ugly words Ascon had ever said to him would flood back into his ears and strangle the urge into silence. Tora lied there, waiting for Ascon to give up while he fought the mess of anger and heartache swirling in the pit of his stomach.

He waited… and waited…. and-

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by on May 16, 2020 at 12:02 am
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And then he woke, cold and trembling on the floor of his pod. There was dead silence. Had that been a dream? It felt so real but then… Ascon would never visit the Weeping Isle. He’d never come here. He’d never try. It was fine. He’s not here. He’s not…but Tora checked anyways, taking timid steps to the doorway and cautiously easing the plant to bloom open.

There was no one there.

He let the plant snap its petals shut in a flash, and collapsed to his knees, shaking. For over a year he’d been dreaming of cutting his family off, but he’d never realized how difficult it would actually be when he finally did it. This by far was his worst nightmare to come of it, but it certainly wasn’t his first since he’d done so.

For awhile he’d wavered on it, entertained the thought that once he’d moved out, he could keep a civil relation with Ascon instead. He’d convinced himself that leaving, the very thing Ascon had wanted, would make him easier to talk to. It hadn’t. Instead, every holiday that came, every family birthday, was another tense occasion where Tora couldn’t be sure whether his father would scream and holler at him or not.

There was always something Tora was doing wrong: not visiting enough, not being thoughtful enough with gifts, not being proper by being Soundless, and never mind his current occupation.

It all came to a head on Ascon’s birthday. Tora tried to set up dinner plans for it, tried to be a good sylvari for his father and asked him to tell him what he wanted for dinner. This was the wrong move. Of course it was.

“Why would you make me choose?! Why can’t you choose?! You know I hate being put on the spot!”

He’d tried to apologize. It wasn’t enough.

“I’m just so stressed – we never hear from you, and you won’t tell us about this job of yours! You’re so distant! What do you even want from this relationship?! Do you even care?! Why can’t we talk about things? Is this just a shallow relationship where all we can talk about is the weather?!”

Of course it was -talking about anything deeper was an invitation to harsh judgement and rejection, and Tora made the mistake of telling him as much. In retrospect this was foolish, but a part of him had hoped Ascon would finally listen. He didn’t, and what followed was a storm of rage, guilt tripping, insults, and accusations. Tora fought back and eventually… It was enough. He was done trying, and Ascon didn’t want to speak to him until “You realize how your selfish actions are breaking this family apart.” The cut had finally been made.

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