Istana and Oscar

Their Story

“Where are you going?” she asked looking up blearily from the bed. Pulling the white sheet around her a little bit tighter, she struggled into sitting position, blowing her short, dark hair out of her eyes.

“Out.” The man said. For a moment she admired his skinny form, wondering why it was that when she did more exercise than him, he seemed to be losing all the weight. Maybe it was some kind of scary ESP…

“At this time?” frowning, she crawled over to the edge of the queen sized bed and checked the silver clock. “At…” she paused, trying to read the time.”

“Three in the morning.” The smile in his voice was obvious, and as he shrugged on a thick brown jacket, he laughed. “Go back to sleep, Istana.”

“But you’re awake.” And for some reason this made sense to her.

“I know.” He said smoothly, and walking over ruffled her hair.

“I’m not a dog.” She muttered, but at the dark, leathery scent of his jacket she closed her eyes. “I’ll wait up for you…”

And promptly fell asleep.

Name: Istana
Gender: Female
Age: Young Adult

Appearance: Short, small bonded and just slightly on the side of curvaceous and skinny (the in the middle kind) her skin is pale despite all that time in the sun, her hair short and dry enough that it appears thicker than it really is. Dark brown/black, it falls around her face in little waves and keeps the wind out of her eyes, rather like a camel. Pretty, but not striking, she’s the kind of girl who might hold your attention for a minute, but no longer. With dark, expressive black brown eyes, she’s usually wearing colorful, pretty clothing and is vain enough to spend more time primping than necessary.

Personality: Loud, a bit of a joker and a little bit ditzy, she’s much smarter and faster than she looks—but she loves pulling the dumb act, because for some reason it makes her feel safer. The yang to Oscar’s yin, she’s like a little bird on catnip.

Name: Oscar
Gender: Male
Age: Young Adult

Appearance: Tall, a little bit too skinny but able to wear many layers and not look particularly fat, his skin is a warmer brown shade, his hair a little bit shorter than Istana’s and due to the harsh glares, it’s been bleached lighter streaks. Honest to god it’s natural. With dark eyes that seem almost purple, it’s actually just a warm shade of dark blue with enough hints that he appears almost pretty. Forgettable really, while he isn’t ugly, there’s nothing that good looking about him. Oh, he’s pleasant to look at—but there’s something so withdrawn, its as if it makes him invisible.

Personality: Quiet, more serious and a little bit more sober than Istana happens to be, he’s smart, modest and a hard worker. Things most people look for in a long time relationship. But he also has a wild side- how else would he put up with her?

***
“And then we—“ Oscar looked up from where he had been motioning on the papers, and frowned. “Istana?” he asked warily. “What are you doing?”

Istana, dressed in a pair of dark blue three quarter trousers, a long sleeved bright pink sweater and her hair kept away from her face in a loud printed bandanna was jumping up and down from a stool, trying to dislodge a coral necklace from their fan.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” she snapped, irritated.

“You do know, you can fall and die?”

Shy, who had been sitting next to Oscar and watching his plans looked back up. “Yes.” He purred. “You can.”

Istana paused her jumping and glared at the two men. “Well.” She said. “You’re both taller than me. Why don’t you just come over and dislodge it?”

Oscar got up, and calmly, moved to the broom closet where they kept the cleaning equipment. Getting out the broom, he walked over and rapped the fan smartly in the center, causing the necklace to dislodge.

Istana stood there, gaping. “How…” she frowned. “You smart person.” She muttered darkly.

“The fan wouldn’t have broken because the force I used was small. Hitting it off center on that side would have—“ he began sprouting information and formulas that had Istana get off the stool, snatch the necklace off from the ground and huff.

“Thank you.” She said smartly, and then turned to Shy. “Has Oscar finished talking to you about the big stuff?”

Shy leaned back and watched both his architect and interior designer. They were just two of probably hundreds that maintained and developed the upkeep of his underground lab, but they were one of the funniest.

“He has, almost Istana dear.” He said silkily, and getting up from the chair moved to place the necklace around her neck. He looped it twice, and smiled. “Perfect.”

She preened a little at the attention. “Thank you.” She said, smiling at the compliment.

Oscar watched on. “He meant his job with the necklace.” He explained.

Istana sent another one of those sliding glances at his direction. “No he didn’t.” she retorted, and smirked. “You’re just jealous because he doesn’t think you’re perfect.”

Momentarily put off by her sense of humor, but used to it, he immediately regained his footing. “Now, Shy.” He said, all business like again. “Why don’t we talk over about the sizing—I know you want a room large enough for a dragon, but I think with what I have in mind…”

Shy moved back over, a graceful movement as he allowed the man to lead him over. He might not be someone to look at, but the genius in his mind almost rivaled the scientist.

Good thing he wasn’t into the whole genetic business/.

“I’ll make some coffee.” Istana announced.

Oscar looked up, and smiled. “Remember. You turn it on first, okay?” he reminded her.

Istana stuck her tongue out. “I know that much, stupid.”

***

They were sitting together, having a quiet meal in one of those home run restaurants in the Vella Crean. The more populated it got, the more families had branched out, creating nooks and crannies for people who wanted a little bit more privacy to eat at. He was dressed smartly, she brightly and they were laughing over some stupid little joke.

“Istana and Oscar.” The head waitress said, explaining them to the people around her. “She’s been here for almost a decade. Grew up here really, since she spent the most important years of her life on this planet.” She grinned. “Oscar arrived three years ago, on a contract with the Vella Crean to upgrade the rider dens, only to be stolen by Shy. Rumors have it that he built an entire network of rooms right into the side of the cliff that overlook the ocean, but not cause any weaknesses in the cliff itself. He’s a genius.”

Istana used that moment to reach out a feed him a piece of shrimp.

“Are they … a couple?” it was obvious.

“Nope.”

Okay, maybe it wasn’t so obvious after all.

“But don’t worry. That’s what people usually think. They’ve got the closeness of family and lovers, but they’re not… together. I’ve seen both of them around with other men and women. It’s like a partnership that works really, really well.”

“So what do they do?”

“He designs the rooms in Shy’s lab, and she decorates it.”

Someone snorted. She seemed to be the kind of woman who would buy something because it was ‘pink’ or ‘cute.’ At the snort however, the waitress sent the person a warning glance.

“Don’t diss her. She’s incredibly smart. Doesn’t seem like it, but she is. Her specialty is designing things into the rooms, so she’s kind of like an architect. See the glass windows?”

They nodded. The entire Vella Crean had special rooms where glass pane windows with a stained effect had been done right into the walls, and yet light seemed to diffuse from it.

“She did them. Some kind of chemist who managed to deduct that quality glow stones have from Pern, and add it to phosperus paint.” The waitress shrugged, grinning. “Not that I know anything.”

Oscar leaned in towards Istana, whispering something into her ears that had her dissolve in high pitched giggles, and had her reach out and slap him on the arm.

“Don’t be silly.” She murmured, grinning. “They aren’t talking about us.”

What is there to talk about?

***

Nibbling on the edge of a pencil and leaning against the table hard enough to make it move a couple of inches, she paused.

With the dimensions of the room, a dragon would fit in here easily… but if she did put in the lights, it’ll have to be close to the ceiling or else it’ll cause havoc if the dragon stretched…

“What are you doing, sweet heart?” Oscar asked, walking up behind her to kiss her on the cheek.

Istana smiled. “Wondering if the pretty chandelier would look better closer to the entrance, or to the back.” She said smoothly.

Oscar smiled. “Really.” He said, not a statement. He had known her for three years, and it had been two years since they had formed this partnership.

Istana smiled. “Really.” She said, unblinking and at his look of ease, snorted. “Cataloguing the lights we can put in. Magic helps, but there’s only so much you can do…” she frowned, tilting her head as she looked up at the ceiling. “It’s barely big enough to fit a queen.” She complainined, slipping to Pernese words.

Oscar watched her oddly. “That’s because I didn’t build it.” He said simply, arrogantly and she shoved him with her elbow. “Ow.”

Istana smirked in response. “Someone has to keep your big head in line.” She teased.

For two years, they had been working as a smooth team. He designed, she decorated and sometimes they did a bit of both. They didn’t do everything—that’s what the real builders and the painters and the electricians were for. But they did everything except all the grunt work. They were efficient, and when people asked if they were a couple, both would announce. (Istana giggling more when she said it) That they were like a dragon rider team.

Istana always said she was the rider.

And Oscar said the same thing.

“I’ll be ready to have you look at the base rooms later.” He promised.

Istana nodded. Working with Shy for so many years, and having almost grown up under his care, she knew how to work with complete darkness. Most of the rooms were underground, located in the center of the Vella Crean where no light or sound was allowed to exist. It didn’t mean that there wasn’t. Istana, with her various knowledge on plant species, lighting and magic usually had plenty of ideas in her mind to create spacious, comfortable and bright enough rooms that people didn’t mind that they were thousands of feet below ground.

Probably surrounded by the ocean bed.

With no one to hear them cry if they drowned…

Joking, joking.

***

Her moans filled the quiet, rising in the darkness and her thrashing was enough to wake the dead. Except Oscar and Istana had built a soundproof room, and on one would have heard her anyways.

“No. Nonono. NO!”

“Istana. Shhhh.”

It always started this way. The nightmares would start in quiet whimpers and noises that would have Oscar wake up, not alert but his body tense while his mind still slept on. They slept in the same room, a bedroom that was large enough to fit two full-grown dragons comfortably, in two large beds positioned on opposite sides of the room.

And when she began to talk, when she began to say things loud enough for him to hear, he would find himself waking up already walking across the room, into her bed and holding her while the worse of the night terrors ran through their course.

“Istana.” He said, his voice quiet.

And her eyes always flew open at that moment, a bright vicious slash of gold that seemed to glow in the night, in the den where no real light could hit it’s shadows.

“Light.” She would always whisper. “20 percent.” And soft dim glows would surround them.

It was only after all this that she could admit to herself that it was all a dream, that she was fine, awake and in someone’s arms.

“Istana?” Oscar prompted, gently.

Istana craned her neck to look at him, seeing the worry in his eyes and smiled. It was a fraction weaker than her genuine one, but only people who knew her, people like Oscar could tell the different. “I’m fine.” She assured him, her voice a little bit hoarse. “Why don’t we go for some ice chocolate?”

She got out of bed, scrambling for her robe to hide the naked goosebumps trailing her flesh.

“I don’t know why you don’t ask him.” He said softly, his voice harsh.

She flinched.

Oscar and Istana were a great team, and unlike many other teams, they rarely fought. They bickered about little things, about what to eat for their next meal, where to go during their times off, but they rarely fought.

Except about a couple of things. One or two.

This was one of them.

“Oscar.” She said quietly, her voice more solemn than it usually was. She spoke, as if scared to wake someone.

“What?” he snapped. He followed her, sullen. “You have them every month and for a week after you can’t function properly.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he glared at her so darkly that her protests died as a mute smile. “It’s true.” He said.

“I know.” She poured herself a cup of milk, placed it in the microwave and pulled out the cocoa powder. “I just…”

“Don’t be so heroic about it!” he burst out. “Shy rescued you from Pern for a reason, Istana. I don’t want to see your entire life ruined because you can’t deal with it.”

As the microwave beeped, she pulled out the steaming cup and dumped half the contents until the color was solid black. Mixing with a teaspoon furiously, her voice came out calm, controlled.

“I am dealing with it.” She said quietly. “You don’t know…”

“What it’s like to be abused because you grew up on Pern, in a Hold where no one cared if you had a soul? I don’t, Istana. I don’t know what it’s like to be a little girl and at the age of ten to have pain and wisdom in your eyes, to have experience most human beings don’t go through. I don’t know what it’s like to be torn from your sisters, or to come here, and try to push everything back.”

She ignored him, and this time reached for the sugar, spooning tablespoons of it into the tiny cup until it threatened to overflow. And yet still, she continued to mix.

“I know you arrived here, that Shy stole you from the world and raised you as one of his creatures. I know you grew, you built a wall. But you’re not the only one.”

The sugar mixed, it dissolved and when it wouldn’t any more she put it back in the nuke.

“Istana.” He said.

Istana turned around then, and her eyes were golden. “I almost died.” She said quietly. “He bought be back, gave me a new body. He gave me golden eyes so that every time I woke up from a nightmare, I would see that I wasn’t back there any more. But I can’t forget, Oscar. I can’t let him take away my nightmares.”

“He can replace them with new memories.” He said quietly, and pulled her cup out of the nuke, stirring it for her.

“But I won’t be me.” She said quietly. “I…” she paused.

She had always known, that he would know. She had told him some of it, and she knew Shy had told him the rest, that she had been abused, a typical cliché who had run away with a scientist who had promised her chocolate and love. But this was the first time they had come to blows about it.

“If I got rid of the memories, I wouldn’t wave up every day so happy to be alive. I wouldn’t feel this joy I do when I see normal children, when I see people who don’t crave death.” She turned to him, and he pressed the cup into her hands, and their fingers linked together. The fight was already dying away—in fact, it had been a pitiful excuse of a fight, really.

“Aw” he left go of the cup, and watched as she leaned against the counter, a little bit more relaxed.

But he wasn’t. Walking over to the bar (everything was positioned so conveniently.) he poured himself a strong drink.

“And you?” she asked.

He looked up. “Me?”

Istana smiled then, because this was normal. It was normal to have Oscar look up at her, confused about just what they were talking about. “Why did you come here?”

Oscar smiled. “Because I was hired.” He said smoothly.

Istana’s eyes narrowed for just a fraction. “Liar.” She said simply. “I was rescued by Shy. Why did you come? You let your tongue slip as well. You speak of marks instead of money, turns instead of years and sometimes.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “You get that accent.” She mimicked it, the slightly mellow, rounded words of a Pernese man.

Oscar smiled, and this time it was honest. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

Istana arched a brow, and looked so insulted that Oscar knew he could tell her.

“I’m exiled.” He said simply.

Istana’s brows went up with surprise. That was… old fashioned.

At her look, he frowned. “I worked as a constructor for a hold.” He said. “Cut the long story short, he had ideas on how to build something that I didn’t approve, went ahead anyways and had the entire Major Hold family crushed when their fort came down around them. I got the blame, suspected for murder and…”

“Shy hired you.”

He looked up, surprised. “He did.” Oscar said simply. “I was being taken to…” his lips quirked into a smile. “A jail, and Shy found me. I owe him my life.”

“So do I.” Istana said quietly, and the two stared at each other.

Istana was the one to break eye contact first, sipping her chocolate and grimaced.

“Forgot the ice.” She muttered, and turned around.

Oscar, watching her couldn’t help but smile.

“Two years.” He said quietly.

Istana smiled, but he couldn’t see it. “Two years.” She repeated. “I saw you, you know. Saw how… normal you were.”

Oscar chuckled. “Thanks.” He said dryly.

Istana smirked. “What about you?”

He smiled, and he grew almost thoughtful as he watched her. “You were laughing.” He said quietly. “You seemed to love life so much…I wanted some of it. I thought, in the beginning that maybe if we were around each other long enough…”

Istana smiled. They didn’t need to finish that one.

“I was Mika.” She said.

Oscar nodded. “I was Torun.”

And that was that.

***

They promised to stay together. They promised to go through Istana’s fears and secretly, Oscar promised to go through his as well. He didn’t want to lose this, the respect, the friendliness, anything and so they seemed to grow closer.

Shy noticed this, of course. He saw the way they seemed to bond instinctively, the way a dragon and a rider might.

And while some people might have suggested that he wait a little bit longer.

Well, Shy had never been known to listen to people.

“Did you call us?” Oscar asked, and for a moment his hand tightened around Istana’s waist protectively.

Shy smiled, an almost endearing, maternal smile as he nodded his head.

“I did.” He looked down at the sheets in front of him, at the computer screen he had installed a couple of months back, and while he knew everything there was to know—well, it still helped to look busy.

“Shy, do you need more?” Istana asked, frowning as she twiddled with the bracelet around her wrist. It was large, gold and eye catching and matched the rest of her cream and brown outfit.

Shy shook his head. “I’m here to talk to you two about becoming candidates.”

Their eyes brightened with interest. “Candidates?”

It was no question that almost everyone who came through into the Vella Crean via Shy, usually left for a couple of years to become riders. No one knew if he did on purpose, or if he had some kind of odd genetic thing that noticed candidates (the way search dragons work, really) but people had begun to bet that eventually, these two would be called up as well.

“Unless you don’t want to?”

He dangled the carrot in front of the man and woman.

And they bit it.

“Shy.” Oscar said quietly. “We love our job, really. But…”

Istana’s eyes shined. “We’re Pernese, Shy.”

Shy’s eyes widened. So, they had talked about it.

“You know better than else that in almost every Pernese girl and boy, there’s that burning desire to become a dragon rider.” Her eyes were shining, almost innocent as she said this.

Shy smiled, pleased. “Good. Because that’s where I’m sending you.”

Oscar blinked, and Istana looked up, confused. “Sending us…?” she said, politely.

“Back to Pern.”

***

“I can’t believe. I mean. It’s…” Istana was spluttering so badly that the more quiet, more intelligent and slightly more blood thirsty side of her showed as she raged around the room.

Oscar smiled, watching from the corner. He would have been reacting the same way, but somehow, watching Istana make a fool of herself seemed to make everything better for him.

“Istana. You know he was joking.”

“A test! A test! To see if we wanted ridership enough to return to Pern, and once we say yes, he says it was a test?!”

Oscar reached out and held Istana, half because he wanted her to calm down… and half because he was scared she was going to rip up his room and break something. “Istana, but it’s done.”

“It’s not done! And then he splits us up!” Istana turned, her eyes a little bit furious now, but more calm now that she had him. “What am I going to do?!”

It had troubled him as well.

Shy had said so calmly. ‘I’m sending you to Blue Mountain Aurie, and Dasmaelnra Weir. They’re located in different worlds, but surprisingly, work with similar coordinates so it shouldn’t be so hard to travel’.

But they were being split up.

“Istana.” Oscar began again.

Istana rolled her eyes. “You can’t be happy with that, can you?” she asked. She turned, pausing as she watched him more carefully. “Can you?” she asked again, prodding hard enough to have him frown.

“Of course I’m not happy.” He was worried about how she was going to handle her nightmares. But he decided it wans’t worth it to fight, to let her know that he was worried as well. Having them both out of their mind… “But isn’t this what we wanted?”

Kind of.

“I kind of thought… we’d be able to go through it together. Like always.” Istana admitted.

Oscar smiled. “We won’t, in the beginning. But everything else we will.” He promised, and then he smirked. “Besides, don’t you think the separation would do us good?”

Istana blinked.

“You know—since you’ve been spending so much time with me… you have put on a little bit of…”

Even if it was a joke, Istana never let him finish the sentence.

***

To Shy,

Well. I arrived. It wasn’t as scary as I thought, but I’m still angry at you for putting me through all of that. The Queenrider Terena welcomed me herself, and I have to admit, there was something very special and nice about that.
I’m surprised how the dragons managed to bring all my clothing in only two trips. I have to find out how the mages did it, cram all that stuff into those tiny luggage and yet have it weigh a fraction of it’s true weight. My clothes were in good condition, that whole going between or what ever didn’t hurt it at all.
The people are so pretty here, as well as the dragons.

I’m still angry at you.

Istana.

(In bottom, in tiny letters)

Shy, I talked to one of the riders. It seems that he has some experience with night terrors, but not as much as you did. The pills you sent over with me…I know you said that they won’t have any effects, but it seems too cliché. Suffer from childhood trauma and spend the rest of your life taking pills? I’d rather not.

So far (I hope I’m not cursing myself) I haven’t experienced anything yet. The rider assured me that they have some locally grown herb that can help relax my mind, but I’m scared about that as well. What if it relaxes me to the point that it makes it easier for me to dream?

Oscar is writing to me, and I told the Queenrider what my profession is. Yes Shy, I except my position to be open when I come back. She’s interested, and I’m showing her some of my designs. There are enough dens that are empty that I might be able to convince her to let me have my hand at things. No real rampant use of magic here, so I might have to take it the old fashioned way…

It should be fun though, it’s been a long time since I’ve stretched out my brain, and I’d love to have something to show off about when Oscar comes to visit. He isn’t coming yet, said something about his own trouble and I’m a bit curious as to what it is.

As a response, she got a thick piece of vellum paper with the words.

‘Keep writing.

And don’t write so small. I’m not that young, Istana,’

She only crumpled up the note and burned it.

Only to regret it afterwards, because she realized she should have used it as an example as to the type of wallpaper she wanted to use.

***

Oscar sent Shy a letter as well. But only because he was in hiding. He had forgotten just how much he didn’t know about dragons, and while he was attending the classes diligently…

Shy,

I’ve never felt so stupid in my life. I know things, formulas, equations and have a memory that will help no doubt, in times to come. But can you believe it? Live all my life surrounded by dragons, designing dens for dragons and yet I don’t know the first thing about rearing one.

It’s not such a loss, though. I’m helping them build things, a den of sorts. Working at the Vella Crean and the experience is a big bonus. And guess what? Even if these people might have once been Pernese, they aren’t any longer. Really receptive to new ideas, new methods… I haven’t been ignored once.

Although, sometimes I am a bit worried about when the other shoe will drop.

Life is hectic, here. I haven’t worked this hard before, or at least not physically. Has Istana written to you about it, yet? Personally I’m glad she’s going through the same physicalities I am. I think it’ll keep her night terrors away longer if she’s too exhausted to dream. But you should see her letters! Her writing is awful.

I wonder if the internet works, across worlds?

Can you look into that for me, Shy? She keeps writing her ‘real’ stuff on the bottom, in tiny script. I don’t get it. Does she think that this makes her look stupid?

Well, it does…

But not in the way she might want to look stupid…

Sometimes I worry about that girl.

Oscar.

The note arrived almost immediately, as well as a small present. A little rectangle thing with keypads—but he was too busy to look at it properly until a week had passed.

And then the note said.

‘I’ve sent both of you one. Should work between you two. And me. Of course me.’

To find a dozen messages waiting from Istana.

Demanding just why he was ignoring her.

Figures.

Distance wouldn’t change their relationship.

Copyrights & Credits

Brushes: DJ43 and Hybrid-Genesis
Images: Janimes.com and Stock Xchng