never take advice from someone who just admitted to being devious and just confessed to treason
Ever since their celebrations had been interrupted, every insinuation of a shadow against the already seething darkness seemed cause for concern, every unfamiliar noise the risk of a new debacle on their hands, and in the waning moonlight the Thief could see little as it was. His mind still lingered over the festival; the success of the riddle game with Thranduil, the initial thrill of his dance with Lena until the dying beast had stumbled into their midst. He knew nothing of what it could mean, what omens and portents it might have spelled out in its bloody path. The Thief couldn’t shake the thought that it was a warning. But a warning of what?
So he tried not to dwell upon it. It was not his place to find a remedy for the danger, though if he could have he would, and aside from the disturbance he had grown to like the island. At first it had seemed unstable, uncertain, perched upon a knife’s edge, and he had only to wait until it overbalanced and sent him skidding off its edge; but no matter how long he waited for the consequences to reveal themselves, they never came. He no longer paid mind to the fact that beneath his feet, through the earth and stone that made up the island’s foundations, there was a void, a chasm of nothing but the cloud and wind that buoyed Caela Insula, and raised it above the lands he had grown so familiar with. He did not contemplate the impossibility of it, floating, air borne above the ground. Instead he enjoyed the mild weather, and attempted to appreciate his lack of responsibilities.
Roland had taken, uncharacteristically, to standing near the edge; looking over, pulling stones from the bank and throwing them, watching them fall. He always expected a sound to follow, some indication of impact, and yet time and time again was met with nothing. Some aspect of him was perhaps toying with the danger of standing upon the precipice, toeing a line he hadn’t dared cross some time before. The idea of tempting fate, of falling, no longer seemed such an inevitable possibility, but a simple risk. It brought an amused smile to his lips, that so much might have changed within him simply from looking into the empty air that spanned the distance between himself and his home.
He so easily became caught up in his thoughts, lost in a maze of speculative threads and extraneous cobwebs, but before he could become too entangled in his own imagination a voice drew him from his musings. It was more familiar than most, and though he was caught off guard by the interruption, he was not alarmed. “Lena,” he answered, turning to face her with concern in his gaze. Did she bring news? Revelations or new discoveries, another clue to the macabre mystery unraveling before their family? Regardless of why she had appeared, he was happy to see her. “Are you well?” He asked carefully, for with all the things that had happened lately he had to wonder, had to worry, that she did not necessarily come bearing good news. He would have to hope for the best.
@[Lena]
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[P] there’s fantasy, there’s fallacy, there’s tumbling stone
