Crystal and dull silver irises flick cautiously between their kindly faces, searching for common signs of unease or surprise, but most importantly I’m watching for extreme displeasure. A clenched jaw here or the grinding of teeth there, shaking or trembling along a haunch and/or wither – all those little clues could mount into a dangerous situation. After living these two years in seclusion, my silent life has taught me to expect the possibility of a negative response…even to the point of sudden conflict. There are some (a rare few) who respond with anger born from the union of fear and rejection – those few didn’t appreciate having an extra voice suddenly creeping around their cranial space. Strangers could be worrisome (even angry) about things that appear to follow a different set of rules than they. From personal experience I’ve found that despite the plethora of magical creatures and oddities in Helovia – my ability is almost always greeted with shock. Luckily for me, neither of these two seem to be cut from a bad length of cloth.

The cushy brown one is the first to answer me. Yes, she readily confirms. Unlocking my optimism for that one small word which had been baiting my breath. It purchased the confirmation my ears desire and releases a tidal wave of pure delight to fly throughout my entire being. Amid my distraction the mental coupling weakens, fading from their subconscious entirely as immeasurable warmth travels the span of my breast, racing all the way down to these muddy, bone thin knees. The first small kindling of a true smile flickers amid the ash and disarray. I’ve arrived after all. This is my homeland, the northern kingdom of evergreen and snow cap mountains. A mix of awe and relief merges in rhythm with my thick pulse; a reaction so vibrant it could almost be tangible. I feel light headed and borderline giddy from it. Though fully dedicated to our conversation, my attention is momentarily stolen from them as I attempt to peer over their bodies, aspiring for a glimpse at whatever lay beyond. Quite suddenly these innards are famished…though not for food… for that whispered world living in my memories. It lay somewhere past that silent monument and twisted road behind us.

Her tender voice brings me back to our rocky path. Fatigue and a second wind has left me dazed, I glance over – noticing for the first time that the two had moved…beside me. They bravely risk coming in contact with that horrid stench of sweat and travel. Beneath this dirty shawl, I thought my trembling body feel their warmth radiating like beams of a bright summer sky, my flared nostrils widen to capture trace amounts of distant cedar and pine. I recreate a link with unsteady fingers, “I’d like that,” though my voice is steady -- these insides are quivering almost as much as my outsides and both are cracking the brittle clay that has encased me for weeks. My head shifts inward, regarding the question with gentle assurance, “Not hurt,” just tired, very tired. A jaded sigh forms in the back of my throat, releasing itself as a silent puff of air.  “Lena,” I repeat, to increase the likelihood that my mind would preserve their names, “and Zyanya.” Words aren’t needed for them to feel my gratitude, my relief, “Call me, Sielu.”


OCC: Ugh! SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER!

@Lena
@Zyanya