Nymphaea

Chapter 30: Exile

Alannah’s heart beat faster the closer they came to the place she still called her home. It was an average Irish village by human standards, a few miles away from the next bigger town, Galway (that one had been growing fast in the last years), but that wasn’t entirely true. It was one of the places that had been partly inhabited by her mother’s race for quite a few centuries. In Ireland there were – to Alannah’s knowledge – only two of the kind and in both lived only a handful of families. But where in her village as well as in some British ones there were only a few cottages inhabited by her kind (carefully separated from the rest of the community), in France, Germany and some of the Eastern European countries there were rumoured to exist settlements pretending to be human villages that entirely consisted of people of her parents’ kinds. Her mother’s kind dominated by far, though.

Ayve and Alannah had flown over to Dublin and taken the Inter City to Galway and now Alannah and her bond-mate sat in the bus that took them to her home. This all was so strange. Alannah watched Ayve as he gazed out of the window into the mist. She held his arm, enjoying having him entirely to herself for once. For more than an evening, that was. Although they had met in regular intervals the past two years and she had happily bound herself to him, Alannah was aware that she did not have any true knowledge of what went on in this man’s mind. And she wouldn’t press him to tell her either. That was his business; as long as he remained the gentleman she had encountered so far and cared for her as he had promised he would. Alannah had grown up between people with unpleasant events lingering in their pasts and knew when to accept silence.

Yet she longed to be closer to him. He was her bond-mate after all. She couldn’t complain: he was personified sweetness around her. He listened patiently to whatever crossed her mind, asking polite questions here and there to keep up the pretence that he was genuinely interested in her ramblings and they indeed seemed to share a few passions, when it came to the higher arts. Alannah would not want to miss any of their conversations by candlelight and a glass of wine or a cup of milk coffee or one of their visits to an art museum, a gallery or a concert. But… she somehow still hungered for more although she probably was closer to Ayve than she ever had been to anyone apart from her parents. It bothered her at times that Ayve rarely entered her apartment. They usually met at some public location. Yes, they did visit beautiful places but sometimes it would have been nice to just stay at home and cook something together as well.

Perhaps she should risk her health more often, forget her scarf a few times next winter or something, she thought with a mental twinkle. The one time when she had had a heavy flew and Ayve had actually stayed in London the whole week to visit her daily and cook for her, make tea for her and keep her spirits up had been great. He had seemed so much more… accessible, closer. Usually, when they met, there was a table between them, symbol of the distance Ayve kept. His voice and his smile were warm but he still remained aloof. It was Alannah who had to take the first step each time to at least be granted a gentle embrace or one of his knee-weakening kisses. Her body reacted already to the mere thought about them… When she had been sick, Ayve had changed his behaviour, though. Temporarily. Sometimes in the evenings Alannah had been so weak that Ayve had helped her up into a sitting position, had seated himself behind her on the bed to support her weakened frame and had fed her the soup he had cooked (which tasted fabulous, to say the least).

Had she not had such high fever then, she sure as hell would have tried to ‘convince’ him to stay for the night. Right there with her. She so longed for his touch sometimes. Not in a sexual way, or at least not primarily, since she still had a few years until that phase started again but fantasizing about lying under warm covers with him, kissing, feeling his soft fingers on her skin, caressing her body in a loving way… life as one of her kind in this world could be so lonely. Her best friend had moved away from London a few years ago after finding a bonding partner. After that Alannah had sincerely contemplated moving back into her home village. The problem was that most non-human people were automatically her mother’s race and that meant they had a totally different approach to life, especially sexuality. Her mother was moderate in that concern, otherwise she would not have come together with Alannah’s dad but she was more of an exception there. Which probably was why few mixed couples stayed together for long. This difference had always made it difficult for Alannah to keep up a friendship with one of them. Casual meetings here and there were fine but certain topics were just off limits since Alannah lacked experience to exchange there. But right now, Alannah sometimes dreamed of going further with Ayve than people would expect her to. Even if she couldn’t have an orgasm right now, the idea of sharing this kind of intimacy with Ayve, to hear him moan because of the physical pleasure she gave him, excited her.

Only Ayve had indicated that he had no such desires. And she didn’t know what to make of that either. His kisses were not cold. There was affection. And if Alannah knew anything he was flirting with her at times. Why would he limit their relationship like that from the start? She had no problem with not living together with him but why did he deny her and himself more closeness?

She pressed his hand so he would turn to her and straightened up, bending towards him to steal one of his kisses. Ayve granted her access and smiled at her gently, stroking her cheek, when she finally let go of him, gazing at him in mild contentment.

They had exchanged bags – he carried her well-packed travelling bag, she held his few belongings – and trudged through the rain from the centre of the village where the bus had stopped to the cottage in which her parents lived. Lucky girl she was, she was small enough to find at least some refuge under Ayve’s coat while her companion did not seem to mind getting wet.

When they stepped through the front gate of the yard, the door of the white painted, long house with the low thatched roof was opened and Alannah’s aunt urged them to hurry inside in the rough tones of her language. The sister of her mother lived in the house as well, together with her mate and Alannah’s cousins. Alannah ran the last steps and was glad to escape the wetness. She fell happily into her aunt’s arms. Ayve waited patiently until the welcoming fuss had been finished and was rewarded with a towel to dry himself off.

Alannah’s aunt bubbled away explaining that her parents had gone doing the shopping and the drive was always taking a little longer in the rain whereas her own husband was busy in the stables and then hurried off to show them to the guest room. As they followed her along the corridor, Alannah bent towards Ayve.

“Do you actually understand what she’s saying? I mean, do you know the language?”

He threw a look at her that made her cringe at how stupid that must have sounded. Of course as son of the present ‘leader’ (or however one called a person that had never exerted any influence over her family but theoretically had the right) Ayve should understand their language. Yet as far as Alannah knew he had grown up amongst nymphs. She had just wanted to make sure…

They were shown into the one guest room the house held (Alannah’s room had gone to her brother). One of its walls was flanked by a bookshelf, the rest of the room was empty except for two depressions in the floor that served as beds as was the custom with her people. All bedrooms were on the ground floor, as was the kitchen and the like. Only less important rooms such as the living room or the library, in other words rooms that had only been copied from human living habits during the centuries, were situated on the upper floor. In the cities their kind often lived completely like humans, with furniture and all. In old rural houses like this shelves were still part of the walls, formed out of stone or clay and meals were served on the floor. Living amongst humans without moving around all the time was only possible with some people in the family having their kind’s ability to influence minds anyway. There was no need to hide your true cultural background therefore. If only she had inherited that skill! That would make life easier.

Alannah’s aunt left to make some tea.

“Do you mind? I mean, sleeping in one room with me?” Of course most of her non-nymph relatives counted two (a man and a woman) plus two (a bond) to equal five (sharing intimacy).

He approached her from the corner where he had set down her bag. “Why this insecurity all of a sudden?” Ayve smiled and kissed her softly on the forehead, took her hand and led her into the kitchen. That lightened up her spirits. She clearly had seen problems where none were.

She chatted animatedly with her aunt and her cousins (boy and girl, about half her age but a little further along in their development than she had been when she had been that old since they had no nymph blood in them). Shortly after the tea pot had been put down in the middle of a circle of sitting cushions, Alannah’s parents arrived.

Even though the greeting was hearty, Alannah noticed how her dad eyed Ayve. Not only in the fashion of a father eyeing the man his daughter had chosen but also as if he was a little unsure how to behave towards another nymph. She distantly was aware that their customs were very different. Her dad had mentioned them once or twice although not in detail since it hurt him to speak about the past. But the awkwardness dissolved into thin air when Ayve reached out his hand in a warm greeting and her father took it gratefully.

They all sat down, whilst Alannah’s aunt started making dinner and refused any help. Alannah turned to her little brother that had hidden behind his mother so far and was now seated between his parents. “Cian,” she called him by his name to catch his attention. She loved it how shy he was. His small hands clung to the dress of their mother as he insecurely gazed towards her. “Come to me,” she tried to lure him away and into her waiting arms. Cian just went on staring at her as if she were a strange kind of animal that he did not know what to make of.

Alannah sighed. “It’s always the same,” she told Ayve in her mother’s language. “I’ve always been a little envious when I’ve had to watch those two,” she pointed at her cousins. “I’ve always wanted a sibling but daddy said that wouldn’t be good for my development although everybody knows it’s good for a child’s social behaviour to have a brother or a sister. And now that I’ve finally got a brother he won’t even talk to me or anything.”

She sat with arms crossed, pretending to be pouting and throwing reproachful glances at the boy in a mock. Then she noticed eye contact between her father and Ayve. She looked from one man to the other. “What?” She looked at Ayve; her daddy’s answer was already well documented.

Ayve shrugged. “He’s half a nymph.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Have you had a silent small talk? That’s his sentence.” She motioned to her father, who burst out in laughter, which made her spin around and stare at him. That was absolutely not like her dad. Usually he was the quiet type. He actually wiped a tear out of the corner of his eye as he slowly calmed down. A glare back at Ayve only showed suppressed amusement, supposedly mixed with a bit of embarrassment. Well, that was probably an act. Alannah glared on. “So?” She distantly noticed not to be the only one eager for an explanation.

“I don’t know what you are expecting now. I’m sure your father has explained the way nymph children are brought up.”

“Yes, but he could never say why.”

Ayve looked around and nodded in understanding. “Well, the general belief is that nymph children develop their mental abilities first. For that a close relationship to the mother is most important and already established in the womb. It’s usual for nymph children to learn to voice words and use their bodies comparatively late.”

“But mental abilities are not exclusive to nymphs,” Alannah’s mother chipped in. “I mean, both our races share the skill of mind reading and we can also influence minds and some of us have the gift of telekinesis as well. Granted, our children take their time as well but thinking back on how long it took Alannah to finally converse with other people as she does with my mate and me I found that disconcerting. I feared something was wrong with her, no matter how many times I was assured this was normal.”

Ayve looked thoughtful. Alannah couldn’t help but feel silently proud how highly regarded and respected her mate was already in her family that they actually asked him about such basic things.

“I can of course only speculate,” the man to her right finally answered. “All the powers you have named which are typical for your kind are very active. Mind reading or influencing requires the knowledge of language so it would only be natural to learn to speak first. Telekinesis implies experience with weight, with the consistency of things and therefore a certain use of the body. That might be the reason why children of your race learn to use their body – including their tongue – before they develop other abilities.

The skill nymphs are most known for, the one that nearly every nymph has, is empathy. An ability that cannot be supported by any other, that is purely cultivated through the relationship between mother and child. The mother has an emotion and the child perceives it. And at some point, often already in the womb, the child starts conversing with the mother by sending her impressions of those emotions back. With time this skill is refined and often enhanced by pictures. A really powerful nymph can project whole memories or fantasies into another’s mind, all with impressions of touches, smells, sounds, tastes and emotions. Perhaps this makes the biological difference between the two races, apart from the fertility cycle and minor differences in looks.”

Ayve’s explanation gained some contemplative recognition.

During dinner, Ayve answered a few questions concerning his task as leader of a nymph tribe. Alannah’s family (just as Alannah herself) was intrigued that there were ‘isles’ in the world where people still lived independently from human influence. Few of her mother’s race did so and those were rumoured to fight with poverty, with hunger. In a way, both races had been defeated by mankind. That realization sobered them for a while.

“So, I understand that by rights at your age you should long have become father,” Alannah’s uncle who had joined them when the meal had been ready observed finally. “Does that mean I’m going to share the house with grandparents soon?”

Alannah assumed that was one of the major mentality differences between the two races. Her dad or Ayve would never have asked such a question so bluntly. But of course Ayve knew how to take that.

“Well, of course the final decision lies with Alannah,” he wisely started. “But I certainly have hopes of becoming father in the closer future.”

Alannah couldn’t help but smile at that prospect (and everything that implied). She could hardly wait herself.

“Well, I don’t think I have to ask my daughter what she thinks about the matter,” her father remarked and she blushed while everybody (apart from Ayve, who only smiled mildly) burst out in laughter. “Have you already a clear idea where the child would grow up?”

Ayve turned to look at Alannah who looked insecurely back since that was still their soft spot. He took her hand and caressed it gently. “We have not yet decided that. It’s a little complicated with my obligations and everything but I’m sure we’ll find something that will meet our requirements. A place where family is close by would be nice, I suppose.”

Alannah’s face lit up at that. That would make things much easier.

Ayve had excused himself early to take a shower and got to bed afterwards. As Alannah now entered the room, it was only dimly lit by two huge candles. She shuffled to her bag in silence, changed into one of her favourite nightdresses and tiptoed over to her bed. As she lay down and faced Ayve, she noticed that he was not yet asleep. The butterflies in her stomach took off.

With a dry throat she asked: “Would you mind if I came over to you?”

“Not if you know how to behave like a proper lady,” he retorted.

“And how would that be?” she challenged him.

“Not to take advantage of a poor old man’s weaknesses,” he replied mockingly. She snorted and started the attack. After examining Ayve’s body thoroughly for any weaknesses concerning ticklishness and coming to a negative result with the side effect of realizing that he was even thinner than he looked, Alannah called for truce and snuggled up to Ayve as close as he would let her which disappointingly excluded certain middle parts of their bodies.

*

She caught him in a tight embrace when she felt him stirring. The sun was still low and sent its rays through the small windows into the room. She kissed him on the place of his neck where the light pointed to one of his scars. Her fingertips had discovered many of those on his arms. Her dad had mentioned rumours about how his tribe had been wiped out.

Ayve indulgently played with her hair, his eyes still closed.

The rug that served as a door to the room was pushed aside and her cousin peeped in. “Breakfast is nearly ready.”

Alannah smiled (more brightly than it suited the situation). “Okay, we’re coming.” At least now everybody would know that they’d spent the night in the same bed.

She clambered onto him, rolling her hips enticingly and kissed him sensuously on the lips. “Are you sure that I won’t be enough for you?” She fingered his hair, looking down into his eyes expectantly.

There was regret in his face, as well as affection. “I couldn’t enjoy the act knowing that you cannot enjoy it in the same manner,” he interpreted her body language correctly as an invitation. “And I fear sex in general has a different taste to me than it has to you. Don’t think I chose this life for me. I sometimes dream about something else. You are a charming young lady. The idea of living with you, raising a child with you, all this happy family stuff, is tempting. But I am absolutely certain that I couldn’t live like that.” He frowned. “I do have serious problems staying in relationships. I feel trapped too easily. Something constantly drives me away. Believe me, you wouldn’t do yourself a favour by trying to hold on to me too tightly – I’d only develop the urge to move farther away...”

Alannah tried to fight her disappointment. She let her hand glide lower. “Could I at least see it for once?”

Right at the moment when her thumb brushed the soft curves of his member (hidden beneath cotton fabric) his hand seized her wrist rather firmly and pulled her arm up. With one jerk they stood, he looking down on her.

“Breakfast.” He turned to get dressed.

For a moment she was perplexed. Then she grinned and grabbed some clothes as well. Had she just thrown Mr. In-Control off balance?

Breakfast took place in the upper storey. The attic had been expanded only a few decades ago, as living standards in the area generally had improved and her parents, aunt and uncle had decided that it would be a nice thing to have such a bit of luxury, too. Before that, it had served as store room. Alannah had often played up there, especially in winter.

Now the attic held a low-ceilinged but comfortable room, ‘furnished’ with rugs made of the wool of their sheep and equipped with a hearth that gave off comfortable warmth.

They sat down on the carpet. “The annual meeting is in two weeks. Will you be able to make it this time?” Alannah’s mother started a conversation after everyone had been seated, speaking to her daughter.

“I handed the application for leave in a week ago,” her daughter replied, “I worked during several holidays lately and haven’t had leave for quite a while so chances should be high that it’s granted.” She piled minced meat on her plate.

“And you, Ayve? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at any meeting and we attend quite regularly…”

Ayve eyed the food provided with some discomfort. The other race’s diet contained much more meat than he was used to. He finally launched onto the bit of scrambled eggs he espied and gave her an innocent look in answer.

“To be honest, I don’t even know what you are talking about.”

“Oh, we’re having a meeting once a year, all of our race who live on the British Isles, in a matter of exchanging experiences, perhaps finding help, or a partner… Of course there are never all of us present but it’s good to have something to look forward to. It’s good to know that there is a community, that there is a regular gathering where you can find people with similar problems who have an open ear for you.”

Ayve nodded, taking a sip of fresh milk that probably had left the udder merely an hour or so ago. “That sounds good, yes. It’s important to maintain something like our own social structure as long as we can’t reunite openly. I’ve been wandering about on my own quite a lot in the last centuries and was always glad to meet a familiar face, to know I wasn’t alone. Of course my tribe is an anchor as well.”

“I think, without the meetings, some of us wouldn’t have made it through the years ," Alannah's mother provided. “Of course, in the past we couldn’t meet this regularly, the journey was too time-consuming. But since travelling has gotten cheaper and faster and mankind develops so rapidly, rushes through life at such a speed that even some of them don’t manage to keep up, we feel the urge to meet as often as we can. But thinking about it, I can’t remember ever seeing a member of your family there. It’s a pity, really. But perhaps they’re not living in the area…”

Ayve smirked at that and the rest of the company joined in, whereas Alannah’s mother grinned sheepishly. Of course there were rumours concerning the whereabouts of the ‘royal family’, to speak in that allegory, and her remark was a scarcely hidden attempt to confirm them.

“Well, the main seat is still South America,” Ayve answered, “but the younger generation travels a lot. My younger half-brother, I think he’s about Alannah’s age, lives in the USA, my half-sister is what humans would call a ‘globe-trotter’, I suppose, and perhaps the closest to our father, and my uncle actually has a house in eastern Scotland. But he’s not the sociable type, I fear, although it would do him good.”

“Well, your grandfather was known to be… very strict,” Alannah’s uncle reproduced the common talks. “He was reported to take a hard line with his sons.”

Ayve lowered his gaze. “I know.”

“Did you ever meet him?” Alannah asked curiously.

Ayve only nodded. Now a silent understanding of what exactly ‘I know’ had meant dawned on the adults assembled and for a while talks ceased.

***