when I pretend everything is what I want it to be

I look exactly like what you had always wanted to see

Roland burst forth from the reeds, landing before Lena where she lay curled amongst the bulrushes and fronds, tucked away beneath notice. The Thief’s pulse still jolted through his veins, an electric static humming over the sun warmed surface of his skin. He returned the mare’s smile, pleased with himself for having found her when there had been so many nooks and crannies to search. Had he simply turned the other way, towards the forest, towards the path to home, he might have missed her entirely. Yet Lena met his abrupt arrival with a bright grin, stirring the tension with musical laughter as she explained herself with a good humored retort. “You certainly kept me on my toes,” he assured her. Though it was perhaps not the most daunting of challenges, it had derived an interesting twist to their game.

His statement only proved she had not finished with her surprises, when she struck again. Roland’s gaze was drifting over the sunlight playing across her crown and over the ends of her hair, ignorant to the fall of her stare from his face to the undefended pillars of his limbs. In one quick movement she reached forwards, a blur too quick and too close for Roland to react; he could only flinch in preparation for her attack. But her teeth merely scraped against the flesh of his knee in a light nip, which was then just as quickly soothed over with a gentle brush of her lips. She withdrew to watch him with gleaming eyes, presenting a teasing query. Roland raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid it does,” he acknowledged, admitting defeat with a dejected bow of his head. Perhaps their chase had ended, but he would keep an eye out for a chink in her armour, an opportunity to retaliate when her guard had been let down.

No childhood challenge had ever been so enlivening, so engaging. He might have deigned to chase around another foal for a few, fast paced moments before losing interest or bending the rules to make himself win, which was always followed by a telling off, though none of those seemed to faze him in the least. He never played fair. There was always a card up his sleeve when it came to these things, be it a game, a fight, or a negotiation. He had often been accused of cheating, but now he liked to think it had built a foundation for his less than charitable acts, and they had played a larger part in his later years than he had anticipated. He was, after all, a Thief. Benevolence was not required, nor should it be expected of him.

But he would allow Lena her victory this time, for he knew he needed to prove nothing to the Mender.

His gaze focused on her once again when she spoke, drawing his ears forwards to capture the playful tone of her voice. Roland cocked his head curiously, somewhat sobered by her admission. What had given her cause to worry? Had he arrived in the Threshold in bad condition? He recalled, his mind had certainly been a rat’s nest of exhaustion and bewilderment, but he had escaped physical harm during his flight from his father’s brigands. Perhaps it was his entrance into the Basin, an acceptable cause for worry even he had to admit, for it had been rather foolish to waltz in uninvited. He feared he would never let himself forget that embarrassment. He quirked a bemused smile at her, unoffended by her confession, but curious nonetheless. “Worried?” He probed, though he would not press her for an answer if she didn’t wish to give him one. He had, at least, done something right if she proclaimed she no longer felt the same uncertainty.

@[Lena]