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Private  - here lies the abyss

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Hälla
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#11



—like held breath,
the stars drew in their panting fires





In due time. If the flickering surge that caused her steps to stutter was any indication, she knew that he was right. Beyond that, his words didn’t pry; nor did he linger on the subject. The look she gave him was one of slow consideration, the wheels within her head turning as she deliberated upon his character. Her distrust hadn’t waned even a sliver, but her curiosity fanned to life with each passing moment.
 
Beyond that, their exchange remained a welcome distraction, and Hälla wasn’t yet ready to let it go.
 
The kindly smile he passed her way was not returned, the slopes of her badger-marked face remaining marble smoothed, the scar upon her dark lips not bothering to twitch into an answering smile. Her moony eyes appraised him as he spoke, assessing his features with bewitching intensity, as a throaty laugh answered his words.
 
“If we venture out of the bounds of our Courts, are we not all wanderers and vagabonds?” She challenged, though her interruptions were otherwise scarce. He’d ventured outside of the jurisdiction of Dawn, even her waking-self knew that much, and even a blinded fool could’ve seen that the deserts of Solterra were a wild, lawless place.
 
The sand cared not for heritage when it claimed its victims. Only for the warmth, the blood, the flesh, that it could pull into its wretched arms. Hälla had only just managed to claw her way free—she knew others had not.
 
(Camaraderie was the furthest thing from her mind at present, for the selfishness of survival had mostly overridden any affection for her past companions, if she’d had any at all. She was alive, but whether faces from memory had dug their way out, too, she couldn’t say for certain.
 
Her heart knew it had been loved once. But it knew, too, that it had been hurt. Whomever had pressed a blade to her breast, she could only pray that the desert had ground their bone to dust, and that their grave lay far beyond her would-be tombstone.
 
She hoped. She hoped—)
 
Another laugh, breathy and loose, echoed his words. No, she didn’t believe differently.
 
“I would much rather wander,” her emphasis upon the word was a pointed directive, as if their definition of the word were some small conflict she sought to win. Childish, almost; but also, miraculously, playful. “Than turn to stone somewhere.”
 
The irony of her words made her lips twitch, her head turning to look ahead as she paced onwards. The desert continued to span on, and despite the overwhelming nothingness that perpetuated over the vast horizon, she couldn’t help the itching claustrophobia. They were surrounded by everything and nothing all at once, and the compulsion to bolt became a nagging itch.
 
And it coincided with his question. Was she running from something?
 
Yes, her mind heaved, a livewire spitting embers. From the past. From the dark. From the tombs. And maybe, just for now, from the desert.
 
“If you need no answer,” she said slowly. “Then why ask?”
 
His words were soft, and Hälla flicked her hoary eyes to meet his own, her chin tilted to compensate for the height that cleaved them apart. She was silent, her muscles corded with contradictory stillness, even as she continued to move.
 
Her concession was a slow, deliberate one, and she swallowed the acid that threatened to overtake her words, betraying her gradual willingness to indulge him.
 
“I’m uncertain,” which was true. She had taken no consideration as to what her destination was or where it was she was going, only that Arjun’s name beat a drum inside of her skull. Zakariah’s was a distant echo, the Betrayer just as fresh of a wound within her mind, but she knew she loathed the Liar more than the man that’d lured them to their fates.
 
It was the dreams she’d been fed—the visions that had unfurled over the span of ten, suffocating years.
 
She didn’t yet know how long it’d been, but the creeping horror of wasted time was a lingering one. The endless dark had blurred into one, perpetuating lifetime, and even now, the heat of the sand upon her soles, she wondered if she was still sleeping.
 
“I was imprisoned in magic for some time,” she divulged, but the crispness of her tone invited no pity. Although, she wondered if he would ask what her crime had been. Pride, she supposed; stupidity. “I’d rather just breathe, for the time being.”
 
She wasn’t running from anything—not yet, at least. She was running toward freedom.



Speech, @"Avallac'h"
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Avallac'h
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#12


the sound of cannons
breaking open the sky

He didn't rise to the challenge her words presented to him.  No, instead he simply tipped his head in thought, letting her know that he recognized what she was saying and was taking them into consideration.

He took that contest, examined it, and carefully compared her words to what he had always seen within the two binaries he always used to distinguish between one belonging and not.

Perhaps to the lands, the wild and unruly places left untamed and free of any significant structures to mark them as inhabited, they were what she said.  But to individuals?  No, they were not that.  People did not work that way.

Besides, in the end, no matter how much one might wish differently it was not the land that controlled the people, it was the other way around.  The land could take, was far stronger and something to fear more, but people were just—

His ear closest to her tipped in her direction, listening to her detached laugh.  He had a feeling that, if he ever had the privilege to cross paths with her again, that single emphasized word would become something of a joke between them—maybe; hopefully.  This is only a wishful thing, one given a breath of life by the tinge of playfulness he heard in her voice.  Although, it was hidden behind what seemed like miles of barbed wires and barren earth.

Nonetheless, it was still there.

He agreed with what she said, wondering on her thoughts, ideas, between the difference in wandering and being a wanderer.  What, to Hälla, designated one as a wanderer, or one as simply wandering?  Yes, he was capable of gathering some of what she thought but what else?  It's a discussion he can say he's never had with another, and he finds himself thinking that, perhaps, he should.

Brought from these musing occurring at the back of his mind, he slants his head down towards hers, brow rising up at her question.

"Why not take an small opportunity when it is presented to you?" He means nothing by his answering question, does not mean to challenge her.  "I need no answer because I have no right to one, but if you were to give me one I would appreciate it."  Sincere and soft, it made no difference if she chose to answer him or not.

When she did, though, he did as he said he would.  He valued her answer, listened attentively.

Didn't even think of asking why she had been imprisoned—he had no right to ask, no right to judge.  Now when he is guilty of much.

("You were supposed to help me, not throw me away and forget about me!  You left me there to rot."

"...I did.")

He swallows past the unexpected tightness in his throat, inhaling the scorching air of the land and wishing it would burn some of the memories away.  Things didn't work that way, however.

"Well, if that is your aim, might I propose doing so in a more moderate place?"  He suggested, speaking easily past the parched feeling he felt in his throat.  "Unless you do wish to continue traversing the sands.  However, if not, I would happily guide you back to the plains that border this place."  Additionally, Avallac'h does believe it would be best for him not to spend a night beneath the vast, cold sky of this place.

He would find little sleep, wishing for the silhouette of wings and the crackling of flames.

Coming to a gentle stop, he gestures with his head in the direction he knows the plains to be.  "Besides, I do recall you wish to get away from this 'hellish place,' yes?"




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@Hälla












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Hälla
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#13



—like held breath,
the stars drew in their panting fires





IHer initial reply was a gentle hmph, barely a sound within the silence of the desert. What she eventually offered was just as vague. “Fair enough.” Were she feeling bolder, she might’ve invited him to explain why he would appreciate it—what was the novelty in unearthing the finer details of, yes, a stranger?
 
She could’ve guessed that it was the opportunity to look beyond strangeness, and to gather some sense of familiarity. No matter the case, she’d already resolved it was a discourse beyond her current realm of interest. Given the chance, she had no doubt either of them could’ve spoken their strange philosophies until the desert swallowed them whole. Her biggest would’ve been the simultaneously impermanence and infiniteness of time, as she’d learned firsthand: how the world could pass in both the blink of an eye while seeming to drag on for eternity. So much had surely left her in the dust, and yet she had done nothing but atrophy.
 
Another sharp lungful of air braced her to continue speaking, to share with him the scarce details of the shackles she wore, and to be resolutely surprised by his disinterest in further investigating.
 
It brought a slight narrow to her brow, waiting for the inevitable moment that the other shoe might drop, as her lips thinned. He spoke again, and yet still, it was not helpless curiosity that drove him forward—it was a kindly solution, one that made her unhealthy heart twitch with skepticism.
 
But his head angled in the other direction, and loathe as she was to admit it, the once-woman of Solterra knew she would mistakenly wander for days to come if she didn’t heed his offer. And truth be told, the idea of temperance within this hour of chaos with irresistible. Her cloven hooves paused as his did, her body angling in the direction he looked, and she fixed with the eyes of a hawk.
 
Slowly, she watched him—measuring the finer aspects of his posture, his expression, his intent. The misanthropy was enough to deepen the furrow of his brow, and she regarded him with mild contempt, undoubtedly berating her own helplessness to accept his offer. The invitation was harmless enough, at least.
 
I do recall you wish to get away from this ‘hellish place,’ yes?
 
A huff of laughter left her lips, though it was dry of humor.
 
“You’re full of surprises, Avallac’h,” she hummed, though the meaning of her words was no doubt ambivalent. A smile flicked the corner of her scarred lips upward, and she slowly conceded her position.
 
“Lead on.”



Speech, @"Avallac'h"
RAYOFLIGHT | MUSONART










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Avallac'h
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#14


the sound of cannons
breaking open the sky

Calmly he waited, allowing her as much time as she wanted to look in the direction he had indicated beneath the sun.  Avallac'h knew his offer was the more sensible one when compared to her aimless wandering.  But, whether she accept it or not was up to Hälla.

If she didn't, Avallac'h wasn't sure if he would simply go on his way or ask if he could still join her on her directionless walking.  Thinking over the latter already made it seem intrusive and as if he was preying.  That wasn't something he wanted.

No, he would just be sure to ask again, for sure, before departing on his own.  However, it seemed that he would not be parting ways with her so soon.

Ears fluttering forward as he gazed at her, he let out a huff of his own.  Although, it was more amused than hers had been.

You’re full of surprises, Avallac’h.

"I will take that as a compliment."  He tenderly replied, angling his body away from her to begin leading her.  Nodding his head at her, he didn't dally,  "As you wish, then."  He said in return to her.

And so, he began to lead her away from the place that held things within it neither of them wished to linger on.




Speech
@Hälla












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