Young Writers Society

a/n: hey, thanks for checking out Starry Veins! This is the novel I wrote for Round V of LMS, and it's still a first draft! While I don't discourage any feedback, I prefer not to receive feedback on grammar! I'm not polishing this draft up yet, so I'm not as concerned about editing. I am, of course, open to all feedback, but I ask that you keep this in consideration! Thanks <3

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[Rowan]

The gathering hall was filled with strings of lights across the ceiling, curling around the great wooden beams above them, so that it almost resembled the night sky.

Rowan’s skirt curled around their legs, the deep navy velvet heavy but warm. Not that the groups of the guild members all clumped in the room wasn’t enough to stave off the chill of the rescinding cold.

It had been awhile since they had lost sight of Cassius, running off somewhere with Ember latched onto his hand. Probably to get into trouble, they suspected. They didn’t know where Alanna was.

But they did find Isadora, Ashael, and Mishal occupying the seating by the lit fireplace that shed an incredible orange glow and an intense, but not overwhelming heat.

Isadora was sitting on the floor with a small, brass-encased goblet of what was more than likely water in her hands, leaning her hand back on Ashael’s knee. She was wearing a simple, but elegant white dress that curled around her neck and flowed like ice down to her skirt. Her hair was loose, or it was now because Ashael was running his hands through it in a soothing motion.

Her eyes were shut as they approached, and Mishal was facing away from Rowan, but Ashael glanced up and offered a shy smile. He was wearing a nice, grey vest and pale blue trousers that brightened his mousy brown hair well.

“You can’t hide from him all night,” Isa was saying. “You’re going to give him a proper goodbye, regardless of what you may think.”

Mishal leaned back in his seat. He was wearing a dark crimson suit with gold buttons. This was honestly the nicest dressed that Rowan had ever seen everyone, but they suspected it wasn’t all for Cassius’ sake.

“Cassius won’t care if I don’t,” Mishal replied. He still hadn’t noticed Rowan, who was leaning on his chair now. “Why is this such a big deal?”

“Are you really going to let him have the last word?” they asked, as if they had been apart of the conversation the whole time. Mishal startled, turning to glance up at them, while Isadora opened her eyes slower and lazily. Rowan raised an eyebrow at Mishal. “Give him a polite goodbye, leave it at that? He’d be devastated.”

They threw a leg over the arm of the chair and leaned back against the chair, draping themself behind Mishal. They rested an elbow against the back, and then put their cheek on their hand.

“Is that worth whatever he’ll have planned for the next time we see each other?” Mishal asked, but looked considerate of their idea.

Isadora rolled her eyes and sighed, tilting her head back on Ashael’s leg. “Just tell him happy birthday, at the very least.”

“I wish I could come with you,” Ashael said quietly, glancing towards the fire with a frown. “I’m going to miss you, Isa. And all the things that could be recorded! There’s a world of interesting things, artefacts and legends, out there.”

Rowan grabbed Mishal’s goblet off the table, reaching over him to get it, and raised the glass as if toasting. “Likewise.” They took a sip of Mishal’s drink and then wrinkled their nose. “Are you seriously drinking milk right now?”

Mishal snatched his goblet back. “You ate beetles a few weeks ago,” he sniped.

Ashael’s head snapped back over to where Rowan was draped across Mishal’s chair, and he made a face. “Seriously? That’s disgusting.”

Before they could defend their actions—as if they needed to—a white gleam caught their periphery vision. They turned to see Cassius walking over, sans Ember. His hair was still more or less tamed, curls in an orderly manner around his head, but the usual flare about his person was dimmed. Or, perhaps the better word was forced. He seemed subdued as he approached, darkened in an amber wash by the firelight.

“Hey, Rascal, happy birthday,” Ashael greeted with a grin. “When did you even get so tall? You kids are growing faster than I can blink.”

“You could have chosen any compliment, and you chose height? Cassius is shorter than I am,” Rowan chimed in. They grinned at Cassius as he shot them a glare and winked. It was true anyway, they didn’t know what he was so huffy about. Cassius was only an inch or two taller than Ember.

Isadora made a disapproving noise. “Leave him alone,” she said. She made a beckoning motion to Cassius. “Happy birthday,” she murmured when he approached her, and pulled him down to sit beside her. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, disrupting his curls, but Cassius looked a little less put out.

“Do you feel older?” they asked, pushing themself off the back of the chair to sit up. The better to see and have a conversation with the two on the floor.

Cassius shrugged. “It’s not like something monumental happens. I’m a day older than I was yesterday.” He leaned into Isadora’s arms as she put one around his shoulder and looked drowsy.

Mishal stood up, tapping a finger against his goblet. “I should go find Mum, she said she wanted to talk to me earlier.” He turned to leave, and when he was facing away from Cassius, they watched as his face screwed up for a moment. He turned again. “Happy birthday, Cassius. You look nice.”

If Cassius had looked sleepy moments earlier, he looked immediately awake now. He squinted up at Mishal as if he’d spoken a foreign language. “Did you just say something nice to me?”

They slid down into the chair, warm from Mishal’s occupancy, for a better view of the sour look on Mishal’s face. “I’ve said nice things to you before.”

“You yelled at me in the library last week for being there,” Cassius said.

“You were distracting me.”

Cassius’ face wrinkled and Isadora sighed. “I wasn’t doing anything! You just like to yell at me because you think I’m stupid!”

“As fun as watching you two snap at each other is, I’m going to find something to drink. I’m parched.” Rowan stood and patted Mishal’s shoulder, pinching him as they did so. “Don’t kill each other before the exciting undertaking.”

They slid away from the impending disaster with the knowledge that Isadora was there and would, most likely, be able to diffuse the situation. Or at least shoo Mishal away.

Alanna had come in with them, Cassius, and Ember, after they had all finished getting ready together, but they hadn’t seen her since. If she wasn’t with Isadora… well.

They hadn’t seen Margaretta all night either and a few of the council members were missing as well. Granted, it was a birthday celebration, and there was an expedition set for leaving they probably had to prepare for. Still, the guild was a modest size. Enough to fill the bones of the once abandoned Citadel and make a home there, but nothing more. The idea of a historian’s life, especially when so much history was erased from the beginning of time and so much was lost in cursed ruins, wasn’t appealing to most.

It took a detour to get their own goblet—of sparkling cherry cider, they had more taste than Isadora and especially Mishal—and asking around before they found Alanna off by herself. She was sitting along the alcove of the stone wall, big enough to fit her as small as she was, with her knees tucked in front of her. Her hair was braided back, their own work, in pretty twists, and fell over her soft red dress.

She was sulking.

They sat down in front of her, tipping their feet back so their toes touched the ground, and leaned back against the stone wall. “I know for a fact that you don’t dislike Cassius enough to hide from him during his own birthday,” they said.

Alanna didn’t look up. “I don’t. I was with him before, anyway.” The consternation on her face deepened. Then, under her breath, she mumbled, “I don’t want Belle and Stormy to leave.”

Rowan let out a long, silent breath through their nose. They extended an arm, and the gesture must have caught her eye, because Alanna glanced up. She eyed them for a moment, and then threw her legs over the side of the platform and scooted over until she was tucking under their arm, head resting on their chest.

“Hey, little Pika?” They swallowed, resting their head on Alanna’s. “I don’t want them to leave either. I don’t think anyone does.”

“’Cept Miss Guildmaster,” Alanna said. She kicked out her legs. Then she shuddered, and it was so slight that they almost mistook it for the jerking from her legs. But no— she was shivering. “They’re our family, Ori. They’re our family, and they’re going to leave us. They can’t leave us, they can’t leave me, they can’t…” She trailed off in as a sob bubbled up from her throat and buried her face into Rowan’s shoulder.

They wrapped their arms around her and played with a strand of her ebon hair.

The worst of this was that they couldn’t say anything. What were they going to say? They wanted to reassure her, they’ll be back, we’ll survive, we’ll be waiting right here, but the words caught in their throat.

This was the last night that they would all be together, and Rowan couldn’t even give Alanna the comfort she needed. They should be with the others, while they could.

Maybe that was it. If Alanna could see Isadora and Mishal, she’d be distracted for a little while.

When Alanna had more or less collected herself, still snuggled against Rowan, they cleared their throat. “Why don’t we go find the others? Make sure that Cassius isn’t getting up to no good? Maybe Stormy will tell you about what happened in potions lesson the other day.”

She hesitated a moment before she nodded and pulled away from them. “Yeah, um. I’ve got something I wanna give to Raz anyway.”

They helped Alanna hop down from the alcove with their best gentle smile. Then they took her hand and led her back towards the fireplace as she swiped at her glistening cheeks.

word count:

1,709