Closing an Old Chapter: Dec. 24th, 2008

[Angelique]

Auld Lang Syne : Lyrics

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne!

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne.
We'll take a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne


Sian pulled her cashmere cowl close to brace against the chill winter winds bite. She stood outside the records office in Britain waiting for it to open, she'd been to Minoc and Vesper, both not having any record of her Grandmothers death or possible burial site. Atya had suggested, that would be the first step in finding out what happened to her Grandfather, how he died, where he was laid to rest, where her family went when they stopped visiting...

Lately her music continually turning to nursery rhymes and songs for children; those last few days at home before entering the Conservatory in Britain were vivid memories, Sian's dreams playing out her memories with vibrant clarity. For months Sian had been miserable, learning on her fourth birthday she would be gaining a sibling. Loosing her play room and eventually her piano as her parents prepared for the soon arrival of the new baby. The baby needed its own space... Mother needed quiet to rest, the piano made too much noise... The once solitary attention to herself and her music had been reduced to her Old Atya... her Grandfather's attention and their playing music together in parks, or cemeteries the few short hours a week they could spend together. Over time the anger and hatred for this new sister or brother grew until the night Sian lashed out at her parents telling them to kill the baby, they only needed her....

The spanking...
The tears...

The fight on the stairs...

Over and over in her sleep, the image of Sian falling to her knees, rolling on her back, kicking with both feet with full force knocking her mother down the stairs... yelling at the top of her lungs, "I hate you, I want the baby dead..."

Old Atya woke Sian the next morning, the smile on his face strained, his eyes puffy, if Sian were older she would have known he'd been crying. The house was silent, her parents not there, Old Atya dressed her in black velvet, with a brand new pair of dress shoes. He made her breakfast and spoke softly of music and a place she could learn to play all day long. "Only special girls get to go so young, I've had them hear you and they want you to play for them...Do you want to play music every day baby?" Sian was excited, music permeated her every waking moment, to be somewhere to play all the time was a dream. Sian told her grandfather yes, and after eating they packed a small chest with all her instruments, a few pieces of clothing, and a picture drawn of her sitting in Old Atya's lap. They walked from their home to a moongate, through dense trees, it was cool, right before the first crisp days of Autumn. The two arrived in Britain walking through the bustling city, Old Atya walked at a low pace, trying to draw out the time with Sian. Sian spoke quickly, asking questions about all she saw and heard on the way to Lord British's Conservatory for Music, oblivious to the consequences of what had happen the night before. Sian met the Conservatory Dean, beamed him her best smile and curtsied as all young ladies should. Old Atya signed some papers, and a woman from the outer office was called in to escort Sian to her new room.

Old Atya lifted Sian into his lap, he held her tightly to him a moment then took a gold chain from his pocket; removing his ring he slipped it onto the chain and put it around Sian's neck. "I will always be close baby..." were the last words she heard from him. Sian saw tears in his eyes and on his cheeks as she was led away. "I LOVE YOU ATYA," she yelled back down the hallway watching him recede into the distance.

Sian's parents visited a few times, the first to let her know Old Atya had died, and wouldn't be back to see her ever again; they never brought her sibling to see her, or even told her its name or if she'd had a brother or sister. Though now Sian was deep into a world where music, how its made, and what it meant encompasses every waking moment... she never really cared, other than a deep felt loss for the music she shared with Old Atya, her grandfather...

______________
To Be Continued

[Angelique]

Wiping a tear as it stung her cheek in the cold; a deep voice came from behind her, “Miss Taliesan... is that you out this early?” Quickly composing herself, Sian recognized the voice immediately, It was Lord Arthur Wallace, he and his brother have been contending for their fathers title and estate; Arthur being the eldest, but Andrew being the one seen most frequently at court. The item of the most heated debate was a statue in their late fathers office titled and cataloged as being “A Fate”. Worth more in itself then the rest of the family's holdings; the brother owning it would be assured of financial backing for years they both felt.

Arthur positioned himself in front of Sian, closer than she was comfortable with and when he reached to touch her, he froze seeming to remember an unwritten rule, as Sian's lavender eyes darkened, piercing his gaze as she stared first at his hand then at him. No man touched her without express permission, any man conducting business with Sian learned this quickly or suffered the consequences. Instinctively the elder Lord Wallace dropped his hand to his side, as it dropped a slight curl touched the corners of Sian's lips. “How is your report coming, Miss Taliesan?” He asked, and Sian frowned, pursing her lips. “I turned my report and evaluation over to your brother before the holidays Lord Wallace.” Sian answered continuing, “When he brought me the deed to the property I requested and the notarized permission to have a copy made of the statue.” Sian then asked in as innocent a tone as she had trained, “You did sign the release of the property, and the permission... they are not contestable are they?”

Sian saw a fury pass over the man's countenance, taking a deep breath and trying to calm his voice to which he very nearly succeeded, Arthur Wallace held her gaze and explained that yes, he did agree to her price for her evaluation, and had indeed signed the papers giving her both an old apple orchard, owned by his father, and the permission to have a duplicate of the Fate commissioned. He however had not see her work or evaluation. “It disturbs me that Andrew has not shared it with you, however I am very relieved to hear that you agreed to my price. I've already commissioned the duplicate for my conservatory; I wouldn't want to bring any legal issues to the Lord and Lady of Istas having it brought into the city without due legal permission for its existence.” “Not to mention the expense,” Arthur added, “Money is not an issue in this instance sir,” Sian gave him her look of condescension letting him know, he'd broached a subject not to be discussed again. “You are not publicly known for evaluation of artwork, you were recommended to my brother and I privately for our purpose was to keep the work secret until it could be unveiled in a grand affair. We were told you were however very expensive, and yet you take for your trouble an apple orchard... permission for a fake... What am I missing Miss Taliesan?” Without hesitating Sian had already practiced her answer, “you can't put a price on memories Lord Wallace. Your father took me to that orchard... to picnic... and talk about his museum and my conservatory... I will maintain the orchard we shared, and have a piece of something he held dear to remember him by.”

Sian's delivery was perfect, Arthur Wallace's eyes lost focus as he stretched to add meaning to what Sian left vague. Sian saw the moment of clarity when he arrived at the lie she wanted him to believe was the truth. In that moment he had all the answers he would ever need, and wouldn't pursue her any longer. Dead men tell no tales was the saying, and Sian used the very dead Baron Clarence Wallace to mask her own profit in this business arrangement. Neither Arthur nor Andrew would ever know, their father had also commissioned a fake of “A Fate” and it was that which adorned his office. Neither man had ever entered the old apple orchard, let alone seek it now, that they'd given it away. Sian had already had the old man's secret haven collapsed, and hired a family to tend the orchard for a few years till she could give it to the caretakers privately. Quietly sleeping in a vault in her Conservatory was the real statue, waiting for its place to be built to be put on display. Enough time for her commission of the duplicate to be created though, Hans Gelbert was paid well never to create a thing, and to swear he'd faked the original for the Conservatory of Istas. Only Sian and her Atya would ever know the original Fate stood in the Conservatory of Istas; it and the Muse bookmarking Atya's crystal creation, the first statue Sian fell in love with.

A clerk unlocked the door to the records office and Sian bowed her head gently to Lord Wallace, turning she left him standing with his assumptions on the cold cobble stones of Britain's streets. A warm feeling of victory filled her as she entered the office to search for any record of her Grandmother's death and burial.

___________
To be continued...

[Angelique]

Inside the office Sian blinked as the clerk moved to the counter to assist her; but for a couple slight differences, she may have walked up to a mirror. The clerk was almost as tall as Sian, with a more yellow shade of blond hair and blue rather than lavender eyes. The likeness otherwise was more than coincidence. The clerk stammered a greeting staring back at Sian. After a long moment the clerk managed quietly, “you're Sian Taliesan aren't you?” Sian nodded then softly responded, “yes... how did you know?” The clerk then began speaking rather quickly explaining she'd visited the conservatory here in Britain asking about Sian, and being told they looked very much alike. “Why would you ask about me?” Sian inquired, as a deep feeling of her privacy being invaded, mixed with a foreboding that she knew who this woman was made the hair on her neck prickle. The clerks revelation was confirmation of Sian's assumptions, “it took me few years to piece enough information together, but... you're my older sister...though we've never met.”

Never met... never allowed to meet, fear that Sian would harm the baby, kept them separated. Sian knew the truth of why she was sent away... She also knew they were right, where this woman's eyes were lit up with the presence of her sister, Sian could feel a coldness filling her, a loathing for the child that broke up her family, twenty-one years past. Rather curtly Sian asked, “what did they call you?” The young woman blinked forcing herself to remain smiling she answered quietly, “Aeryn...” Sian nodded, “after our Grandmother, I bare her name also,” she replied. Sian's loathing mounted, now sharing a name with this woman, she felt betrayed by her parents all over again. Aeryn then stated, though her tone made it seem a question, “you never came home for holidays.” Sian's patience was at its end as she narrowed her darkened lavender eyes, “home to where? At four years of age am I expected to know my way through moongates to a house I am not even sure what city it was near? The visits stopped when I was seven, the letters all students were asked to write home stopped being returned soon after. And you wonder why I didn't come home for the holidays?” Aeryn looked confused, taking a few moments before speaking again, “there are no pictures of you out in the open, I found them packed away when we moved. I knew there was something missing, I asked to learn to play the piano that sat in the sitting room but was never allowed, only told it was not to be played, it was not mine...” “The piano is mine,” Sian responded coolly, “it belonged to Old Atya and was given to me when I was three,” she finished. Quieter still Aeryn responded, “mother was devastated when it was burned in the fire.” Sian dug her finger nails into the palms of her hands to prevent the tears she felt on the verge of welling in her eyes. Only extreme practice allowed her to keep her voice calm, her face expressionless. “I've better now,” Sian issued not allowing her feelings to show; in the back of her mind a little girl curled up alone and started to cry.

The bell from the door broke the silence between the two women as a man entered and sat in a chair by the window, Aeryn then asked professionally, “what brings you to the records office today? “I came to find record of Aeryn Anne Taliesan's death and burial place, in the hopes of finding out what happened to Sean Liam Taliesan, our Grandfather...” Sian responded. Aeryn frowned deeply, “I don't remember him, he died soon after I was born.” she said softly. “I've been to Vesper and Minoc there is no record there of either of them,” Sian returned. “There wouldn't be,” Aeryn answered, “They are buried together in Nu'jelm cemetery, though we lived near Yew at the time.” “We remained in the house outside Yew till it was destroyed by a fire, when I was ten. After that we moved to Trinsic.” Aeryn added. Sian nodded slowly, then thanked Aeryn and turned for the door.

“WAIT,” Aeryn called after her, as she quickly rounded the counter towards Sian. “You can't.. I mean, I have no idea where to find you...” “Why would you want to find me?” Sian responded her gaze baring down on her younger sister. Aeryn looked shocked, like someone had stolen a childs favorite treasure, “You're family, and.. you've been gone so long... Aren't you even curious?” Aeryn stumbled over the words in her haste to get them out. Sian only wanted to get away from this reminder of her past, her mind projecting outwards a deep desire to see Atya, to have him make things right. Sian could feel the turmoil and conflict in her stirring, and a desire to hurt this woman for even existing, she felt herself loosing control. Quickly Sian spoke, “Aeryn, I've no feelings for you or any family I left behind other than Old Atya. I will however offer you a place to contact me if you in turn will find out for me how he died, the details of his burial, and what happened to his belongings.” Aeryn nodded quickly, “anything...” she said. Sian produced a card from her glove, handing to to Aeryn, engraved on it was Sian's name, and title as Dean of the Conservatory, along with its location in the City of Istas, Malas. Aeryn clutched the card tightly as Sian spun around and left the building as fast as she could. Out on the street she called out the incantation to take her back to the conservatory and selected the rune marked there. Tripping up the stairs in the early morning light Sian fell to her knees and began to shake as she let herself finally feel the emotions she was restraining. Violent tears streamed down her cheeks as she forced herself up the stairs into the auditorium, locking the doors behind her. Atya would be sleeping, though she desperately wish she could wake him...


___________
To be continued still...

[Angelique]

Sian stood in front of the music box, playing the same song over and over, thoughts of her regnant and their conversation repeating with the rhythm of the song played. Atya drew near that evening, Sian felt him approach, their bond drawing her to him like a magnet. Patience, honesty, understanding, above all he listened and soothed before he advised. You have eternity to decide if she is someone you want to know... and if in the passing of time she is gone before you make up your mind, then she was not worth knowing... This is what Sian took from their conversation, it was a choice not a burden, and she didn't have to make that choice right away. Sian was tired of hating, tired of wasting energy on a past that wasn't going to change, tired of caring for what was lost. It was a new year, Sian was a quarter century old, had new prospects, new projects and finally a new composition sitting on her piano.

Sian's lips curled as her thoughts turned to the marble statue in her vault, the new design for the conservatory and the spotlight she wanted to put on the Museum. The Conservatory Dean had plans for a summer concert, and another Ball along with a second book faire over the coming year. Istas was her stage and she would shine upon it. Istas was her home and she would make Atya proud. A thought crossed her mind as she moved to sit by the hearth with a new bottle of Sake... If they had kept me... I may never have made it here... and here will last forever.