Lapis Sibirica Literature

== From Her Son, Vert's Perspective ==
The sun was far past the horizon now, and the croon of weary owls filled the sky. The shine of the moonlight was dim that night, the moon enshrouded by clouds. Vert furrowed his brow; it had been an especially long day, and the paperwork was piling up. He had just responded to an inquiry related to the fourth anniversary of Yimmu-Audal, but the piles of paper he needed to fill in seemed to grow each time a task was completed. *One more,* he thought, *one more, and I can retire to my quarters for the night.* After all, even the late-night drinkers at the tavern had quieted down by this point. The only awake souls in Yvres must have been Vert and the two guards who had recently been permanently stationed outside his house following a string of break-ins. Hiring for the position had been beyond difficult, as the role had already seen two fatalities during the most recent break-in, and very few guards wanted to stay awake all night.
Vert picked up his last sheet of paper, dipping his quill in the pot of ink on his desk. He was halfway through reading the letter—one congratulating Yimmu-Audal on four years—when a commotion broke out downstairs. The sounds of shouting emerged just after the crushing sound of the door breaking. Vert charged down and froze upon seeing the guards approaching the intruders with their weapons drawn. Pieces of the door littered the floor; it had obviously been hit with either great force or speed, and its advanced age was apparent. The door was filled with numerous woodworm. Vert shrugged—he could create a better and sturdier door later.
He turned his head to the guards, who had now backed the intruder—a rather small female Dryad—into a corner. The Dryad was clearly older than Vert, as shown by the expertise she'd demonstrated with the number of roots that surrounded her. They did not look threatening; much the opposite, they encircled the female Dryad, who looked incredibly tired. It was while studying the roots that Vert noticed the look in her eyes. It was not anger nor malice, but fear that filled her face. The guards were about to swing their weapons—a blow that would surely end the fight. Vert yelled loudly, “STAND DOWN.” The guards, shocked at their sudden disarmament, dropped their weapons on the floor. A clatter sounded as they struck the ground, and Vert's attention was momentarily taken away from the Dryad. His eyes darted to the weapons before slowly moving back to her. She approached him with a weak stumble, quietly muttering before collapsing. Vert's eyes widened at the word that had emerged from her lips; he almost collapsed in shock himself. One of the guards looked over in confusion, inquiring, “What did she say?” Vert looked at the guard, still filled with hollow disbelief. She said... “Son.”
Vert sat on a small chair beside his bed. It was a worn-out old one—one of many furnishings that had been brought from the previous world by boat. It creaked as he stood up; the weary joints of the chair, not built to handle a being as big or heavy as Vert, threatened to give out every time he used it. He should probably get a new one, he thought, as he gazed upon the woman who had broken in yesterday and was supposed to be his mother. Her face looked younger and more peaceful in her sleep, devoid of the fear that had stretched across it the last time he had seen her awake. As he looked at her, he mentally noted that she was likely a Shylie—her small size and luscious gray skin were exactly like those of the other Shylie he had seen before. 
It had been a long night. After the woman had collapsed, he had moved her to the bed so she could sleep peacefully, and he had sat there the whole night, half in shock at what she had said just before her collapse, and the rest in concern that she might wake up and something would happen with his guards again. One of the guards stayed at the door despite his protests; they simply couldn’t leave the Emperor alone with an unknown third party, no matter who they claimed to be. Vert thought this was ridiculous—clearly, the guard had been sleeping on the job, and the guest had woken them with her entrance. He reached out to fetch the guard.
Suddenly, the female dryad jolted up, eyes wide as she looked around. "Where am I?" she asked before her gaze settled on Vert. She immediately calmed down, recognizing the one she called her son. Vert looked at her reassuringly. "After you collapsed, I moved you up here. I thought you could use some rest. Why were you so weak when you got here?" She lifted one of her arms slightly, showing a patch of moss that had begun turning red. "I've been fighting this stuff; it's nasty." She opened her mouth, about to explain what it was when Vert suddenly blurted, "Are you really my mum?" 
She looked at him and smiled, nodding. "You look just like I expected, Onyx." Confused, he responded, "I thought my name was Sibirica?" She shook her head and explained, "No, that was just the other members of the group in that cave being stubborn." He curiously asked, "What about Dad?" She sighed, a long, deep sigh. "I'm so sorry. He didn't make it." Vert glanced downward, saddened by the news. "What caused it?" She looked at him kindly, as if she hoped to raise his spirits. "That's simple: he had Decay, and without the help of his tribe, he didn’t survive." Vert subconsciously nodded. "Can you tell me about him?"
The female dryad took a long breath in, and a light almost shone in her eyes as she recounted the deeds of her late husband. 
"Your father was humongous; he truly embodied the trees his clan named themselves after. Despite this, he didn’t particularly care for his clan or its traditions. After all, if he'd followed their rules, he would have married within the species of Meyderlie. But instead, he stubbornly insisted on changing his name and trying to get the approval of my own clan. Neither clan approved of our union, but we did not care. 
Let me tell you about our clans: my own has a tradition of naming our young after the beautiful rocks around us when we are created. I should probably introduce myself—I am Lapis Sibirica. Your father's clan named their families with one name; they did not get their own names, which is why both clans were angered when we changed our names to include bits from each other's respective clans. He was called Opalescent Sibirica, named after an opal we kept before.
They largely tolerated our feelings for each other—well, it was tolerated until they found our four seedlings, you and your siblings. Filled with anger, they immediately crushed one, but luckily your father was nearby. It’s particularly difficult to move an angered dryad unwillingly, especially one as monstrous as your father. I have never seen him so furious as he was that moment; I barely saw his fist slam into the dryad who did it. They were immediately crushed. He told me to grab you and your siblings. The other dryads were furious about what had happened, but we only had time to grab your brother and your sister. You were snatched by an older dryad; I almost had to pry your father away—he would have killed the whole clan if he needed to. Eventually, we left, banished, and the clan raised you, keeping you as a hostage to hold off your father."
Lapis took a deep breath as she finished telling the tale of her meeting Vert's father. She stayed quiet as Vert processed the huge amount of information he had just been told. At last, he spoke up. "M-My siblings, what are they called?" She looked at him, a ghost of sadness in her eyes as she thought about a clearly painful memory, then she recalled their names. "Well, the first one who was crushed was called Lime, after limestone," she said. "Your brother is called Slate," she continued, "and your sister... is called Apatite." Overwhelmed, Vert slumped into the chair, which at long last gave out under his mass—its legs splintering as they were crushed beneath him, and he found himself on the floor. This did not bother him, though, because now he really could use a nap. He felt the lids of his eyes slump closed just as Lapis called out, "Ony—Vert!"
== From her perspective ==
The waves softly washed over the golden sand. Lush red vines hung from trees, a deep red in hue. She looked at the tree worriedly, not sensing any life from it or around it. It was clearly unhealthy compared to the trees she’d passed earlier, which had been a healthy lush green and had been full of life when she’d checked them. She was pretty sure this was the area she had been told to look for her son. As her root laid, wrapped around the reddened tree, she felt something spreading up it. Curiously she touched the part of her root which was now reddened. The spread immediately infected her had which was touching the root and it rapidly began reddening. Lapis jumped back, swiftly slicing off the root before the infection could spread to her fully and focused her energy into preventing the spread up her arm further.
Rushing now, she escaped the crimson red forest and entered a more flattened plains area. Slowly a grand port came into view, she smiled as she observed it. This was the port which her son had constructed if the rumours were true. After a short walk she had found the biggest house in the area. Two guards stood at the door, well one was sitting and the other seemed to be standing whilst asleep but they were guards nonetheless. She walked calmly towards the guards and made her presence known with a gentle “Hello”. Both Guards jolted awake and raised their weapons, clearly irritated due to being awakened. Cautiously she inquired "I would like to meet the one who lives inside this house, is that possible?". The guard who had been sitting crouched into a combat stance, glaring at her with open hostility. The other guard was more successful at maintaining their composure, and responded "We cannot allow you entering at this hour. We will however be apprehending you as you look rather... suspicious." The guard then grinned at his partner and they began approaching her. 
Realising they were not in fact planning to arrest her based on the combat stance they had both assumed, she rushed past them pushing her way through the door before backing into a corner, ready to defend herself if needed. As heavy footsteps sounded down the staircase it struck her she would be unsuccessful in this fight. She assumed a defensive position, making herself as small as possible before surrounding herself with a web of roots. Her hands shook and her throat felt dry, she was afraid of the guards who now circled ever closer. Just as their assault seemed imminent, a commanding voice echoed from the foot of the staircase. "STAND DOWN". The guards immediately relaxed with a slight twinge of irritation at losing their target so close to the kill. She looked to the source of the voice and saw a tall, imposing dryad. He looked so much like his father, she reached out as her energy drained from her - she had found him aat long last "Son." The whisper had barely escaped her lips as she collapsed.