Softly my thoughts /
whispered invisible words.
☼
The tear that slipped free was gone quickly, soaked into her skin by the time she turned to face him again. He said nothing to indicate that he had seen it at all, which was undoubtedly for the better—for both of their sakes. Her jaw set into a line within the moment it took him to answer her question, and then the tension ebbed in a slow, quivering exhale. The milky-white gaze that he leveled towards the distant forest betrayed what she had already guessed—Delumine, or at least part of Dawn’s jurisdiction, was a woodland.
Those same memories told her that she had been lost beneath the trees one too many times before, the countless trunks a twin to the winding maze of the catacomb, and yet the freshness of their sage scents revitalizing in a way the tomb’s musk could never be. Avallac’h, mercifully, filled the silence of her thoughts with more answer than she had asked for, and her chin tilted slightly as he continued.
And she wondered again how a man so taken with meadows and lavish, sprawling fields could have heeded the alluring, curious call of the desert. Rather than ask him again, she kept the queries caged behind her teeth, her eyes piercing as she looked upon him.
Would you show me there, if I asked?
Of course.
His reply did not miss a beat, as steady and stalwart as the languid thrum of her heart. Hälla, swept into the machinations of his joke by disappointment more than humor, shook her head slightly. There was a sternness within her eyes, an almost worried look—
He was kind, and she did not doubt for a moment that there were persons in this world that would, and perhaps had, taken advantage of him.
"You can always say no to me," she interrupted suddenly. "There will undoubtedly come a time when I will say no to you." The brusqueness of her words hid the intonations of concern, sugarcoating her rare care with brambles rather than powder. She did not fret as he did, but neither was she cold enough to dig her heels into his spine and trample him into the dirt.
He was genuine, insofar as she could tell—a rare enough prize in this world that even she didn’t wish to see stamped out.
(Beyond that, there was a quiet intonation of remembrance within her heart. A pinprick that told her his actions, his mannerisms, reminded her of someone beloved. The name or face she could hardly put paint to, but the strings the feelings struck sang of family; sang of a person she had sought to protect.
Whomever they were, she wondered if she had succeeded in the end.)
Avallac’h spoke of festivities then, and the cold of her somber expression became something wry as she huffed. She wondered if Solterra knew that its people were waking from beneath the sand; that the warriors it had betrayed were clawing their way free of darkness. A hundred flares of sunlight trapped within shadow as they danced, and sang, and drank. An involuntary shiver skittered across her skin.
Just as before, his invitations were heartfelt and, despite herself, appreciated. They left as much a bitter taste upon her tongue as they did a sweet one, and she resigned herself to the perpetuating skepticism that his generosity inspired. She just didn’t understand.
Still, the stability of him was more than she could make for herself, and she found her limbs stepping, hungrily, in the direction of the forest.
She just wanted to know—
“That,” she lifted her nose, gesturing toward the distant fringe of trees. “Those are Delumine’s forests?” Her eyes already shone with intent, and her tail flicked. The sun was low in the sky, falling upon the cusp of the horizon, and yet she longed to push forward. Only the fading light kept her from doing so.
Her jaw set as, begrudgingly, she forced the words out from her tight trap of teeth.
“Will you be in the plains come morning, Avallac’h?”
