It was odd, her fear of him, because even as she greeted him, as he turned to look at her shaking on her hooves, there was a kindness in his eyes and a smile pulled at the corners of his lips, giving him a pleasant look- a far cry from the terrible images she remembered of him. And Kahlua was rarely good at deciphering feelings, at knowing what a tip of the ear meant or what the slightly raised brow was trying to tell her but happy... the girl knew happy. And what she saw when she looked at him was happy- at least for a moment. His face quickly dissolved into a confusing look at the painted girl had no ability or right to try and decipher.
That night... how many times had she replayed that night in her head? Willingly or unwillingly, it came, a constant nightmare, always waking her with a scream or preventing her from sleeping. And how many shadows that she had walked by had moved just the right way, twitched in such a manner, that she was sure he was going to be there behind it? It may have taken him a moment to recognize her, to remember on what grounds they had met, but Kahlua needed no reminder of the electric bay. He followed her wherever she went, always just one odd looking bush away from being back in the forefront of her thoughts.
Perhaps the most confusing thing of all was why he had left. Sure, she had tried faithfully to convince him that she was simply there to watch the tournament- what she had later learned to be the Basin's invasion- but would a true warrior really stop if he was battling an idiot of an opponent? It was not a question she had stopped to ask herself- it was not a question she really had the capacity to think of. All she had known was that she had been frightened, terribly frightened, retaliating out of fear and instinct, when he had suddenly disappeared, leaving her free to run with all the speed she could manage back into the very heart of the Edge where her fragile body and soul would be safe.
“It's you,” he offered and she pulled her lips together tightly, but still managed to sneak in her name, “Kahlua.” And there was something in his voice, some hint of sorrow, that dug at her soul and made her think, made her remember... she was not the only one with troubles and memories, not the only one who awoke to nightmares and dreaded the night. Perhaps that night had not been all fun and games for him either. Her thoughts were confirmed, at least in some respects, with his apology.
“Why did you invade?” she asked him bluntly. She was usually a brilliantly charming individual, bringing the sun with her in her smile even into the deepest depths of blackness, but in this moment she lacked all of that magic. And yet, even through her fear and somewhat subsiding shaking, she still felt compelled to be cordial, to try and right what wrongs had been committed. “I forgive you.” And though the words were not dancing with excitement, there was a truth to her voice that could not be denied. Kahlua was not liar, she never would be, and she wore her emotions as plainly on her face as an open book bore its words. Still, she waited for his answer.
Kahlua
THE SUNSHOWER
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