never take advice from someone who just admitted to being devious and just confessed to treason
A late evening wind tracked an uneasy chill down Roland’s spine, and with unrest saddled upon every word spoken between them, agitation breathed like a predator down the back of his neck. What answers Lena supplied did nothing to assuage the electric buzz of his nerves, or the agitated twitch of his tail against his hocks. He did not consider her the type to scare easily, and the Thief knew he possessed considerably less courage than her. Whatever burdened her could be no trivial matter. When she finally lifted her eyes to meet him, Roland saw desperation and reluctance in her gaze, an amalgamation of things he could not read. The explanation she offered served to clear the confusion from his mind, but the words fell from her lips with an iron weight, an anchor of uncertainty wearing her down. The gravity of it settled like ice in Roland’s stomach as he listened, choking back a wave of trepidation. How could a God possibly demand this of her? Why must she scald and scar herself for the sake of his gift; why must she suffer in order to protect others, when she had always been there to heal the wounds of their fallen soldiers and guardians? If there was penance due, surely she had already paid it. What good was a God that harmed its followers, that accepted pain as a form of currency? Was it the only acceptable fare of a deity, the ultimate sacrifice in exchange for a granted wish? Did Lena need to prove anything to him? The Thief fought against his growing frustration, knowing he had rarely questioned his faith in the Gods until now; it was not his battle to fight after all.
Roland might have insisted to accompany her anyways, had she not asked. He was still grateful for her request, no matter what might be required of him in the end. Consequences happened to be the last thing on his mind. How could he have simply stood idle, averted his gaze, when she might have needed help? Lena was more than capable of fending for herself, but what if the inferno got out of hand? And where were they to find the fire that would reap the Sun God’s earnings? It sent a shiver across Roland’s skin to even contemplate whether magic might be involved. But his answer to her request, at least, required no deliberation; it was upon his tongue in a heartbeat. “Of course.”
He couldn’t help wondering where this quest, this dangerous pursuit, might take them. Away from the moderate- now questionable- safety of the island perhaps, and onto the ground. What might they find there, lurking in the depths of dark shadows? Could it be worse than what they had seen at the festival? Despite what Roland knew to be true, the high point of Caela Insula felt secure and sheltered. He was no longer bothered by the fact that he stood upon a floating platform of earth and rock. Vicious gales did not cause him to wonder if the island itself might be unmoored, drawn by a windy tide away from its dock until they were left utterly stranded in its cloudy heights. There were much larger concerns the Thief could spend his time contemplating now. Hoping to calm his nerves, Roland drew a tentative step closer and reached out to brush his muzzle against Lena’s cheek, trying not to think about what lay ahead for them, for her. “Of course I will,” he repeated, a soft murmur beneath the shell of her ear, and drew back to meet her gaze.
@[Lena]
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[P] there’s fantasy, there’s fallacy, there’s tumbling stone
