en natt så kall och månen den var klar

"Mauja, for fuck sake. Man up a bit. You don't scare me anymore."

"I suppose I'm not very frightening either," he muttered. And of course not. How could he be when he was the very definition of a walking mess? He didn't want to push against the wound, he didn't want to strain against the pain, because it hurt, so crystal clear, always shimmering in the corner of his eye. Truth hurt—and he'd always known, how he'd fallen from the cold, clear heights. When he lost the Edge, he lost everything, heart and soul and strength and courage. Every once in a while black lightning struck and set the world aflame, but it always faded. It had been a long time since he'd been worthy of Helovia's loathing and wariness, a long time since he'd been anything at all but a pathetic creature who crawled around on the dirty floor while pretending he still shimmered like cold steel in the moonlight. If it was one thing he was an expert at, it was running from the truth.

They had both changed. She laughed, and it chafed against his ears and against his mind, because it was neither the Delinne of his past, nor the one who had shouted at him in the caves. It was someone else, and Mauja's jaw clenched a little tighter. It reminded him way too much of the fact that he'd killed her, once, on this very meadow. Suddenly it seemed a lifetime ago. Whatever had happened that time? Who had it been? Was this the same? If he killed her again, would she still be around? She stepped into—onto—the water, and he drew a deep breath. It was shallow, but not that shallow. She clearly stood on it.

Well, whatever. Helovia was strange. His gaze came up again. She came closer, close enough to touch, but he didn't move. Suddenly the breath hitched in his throat, and his heart pounded like a caged beast; her smell filled his nose, her voice his ears, her neck his vision and her touch filled his mind. He was barely breathing, just feeling her teeth massage his skin just a tad too roughly, and he tried to remember, to perfectly recall, what she had said.

It was, he decided, not something he was normally subjected to.

So he grit his teeth and endured her violent little nip, until she suddenly bounced back, still on the water. Normally that kind of behavior pissed him off; now, it just stunned him. What the hell did she want of him? To say sorry, but what now? What did she want of him? He wanted to flail and scream and run away.

"Do you remember how friendly and kind I was when we first met? How nice you were?" Well, yes, sort of. "I think all of that is gone now." Like a punch in the gut, a splash of cold water in the face, but neither false nor new; she laughed again and looked at her cat, who went off sulkily, and Mauja frowned, concerned. She'd clearly gone somewhat insane, and he had a feeling he'd played a rather large part in making it happen. "You've really lost it, haven't you?" he asked her, one 'brow arching in a mock display. He couldn't handle this, not on a good day, and least of all when he didn't have the slightest clue what was going on. Humor her? Out of the question. He didn't humor others, and didn't feel too inclined to tell her what he'd been up to. Not that there was much to say, anyway. He'd just been moping. Like he had for the past three years.

He let his eyes, pointedly, fall to her sides. "Who's been up you?" he asked flippantly, with that cruel twist of his lips. Isn't attack the best defense, they say?

Because after all the shit he'd put her through, and all the ways he'd mauled his heart, he just didn't think he could stand catching up with her. Like they were friends.

He wasn't strong enough for that shit yet.

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