Rikyn

Don’t, he commands me, and my eyes widen, my smile fades. Had I struck a chord, somehow, with such a simple question? The only way I might have wounded him with it that I can immediately contrive is that its true, because nothing bites into me quite like that unerringly straight blade does. Of course, I’m assuming, again, that he is like me, and though we were both born under the same stone effacements, the same rippling, colorful sky, and had each walked as princes among our peers, we are no more the same than the snow was to the stone it layered itself over each winter.

So, does that mean he does care, perhaps too deeply to speak of, or that love had been cast aside by the one who has earned it? I don’t speak of those ones, either, and can also sympathize with the need to avoid the ways that others have abandoned, and failed you. I can understand missing those who you had come to cherish, as little as I could understand being in love.

I’d almost loved Xynia. I remember her eyes, her smile, and the lilt of her voice, but I remember these things in reference to myself; how she had looked at me, when amused with my antics, or disappointed in my choices, and the way she her words were never soiled by whatever negative things broiled in her heart, that I had caused. Almost, because even though the scar on my shoulder still reminds me of her, when I care to notice it, I no longer think of her every day, and instead only recall her when I selfishly rifle through memories I have thrown away.

I don’t understand love. It was not something that has ever been mine, at least not in a way that was unconditional, or properly seen through.

"Fine," is a cold remark, my own brick laid down in the borders that define our relationship, suddenly feeling shut out. I had rarely denied him an answer to his questions, and feel my heart harden. Whoever this person is, they have managed to create yet another rift between Erebos and I, another gray area that neither of us dare to tread. Its frustrating, and lonely, to have it pointed out so obviously, and soon, I too am looking out into the trees, not wanting him to see the hurt that darkens the usual impish glimmer of my golden eyes.

Yet, that silence is shattered, brittle as all silences between the two of us, and, as we’ve always done, the slighted pretends to be unwounded, and carries on. My laughter seems to puzzle him, at first, the vengeful soldier unsure what to make of the foolish rogue, but it seems he accepts it easily enough. His offer, or perhaps the wink which follows it, inspire a broad smile, my head bobbing in agreement.

"Of course," I tell him, glad to not have to admit to the fact that the enemies I’ve made are actually the good guys in the ordeal; regardless, its good to know he’s got my back, if I ever need him, and I cheerfully add, "you too, you know. I’m almost always around."

That he believes in me draws a grateful smile to my lips, and because I’m not the sort to get overly emotional, the statement means a lot more to me than I let on. Though I didn’t think the task I’d been assigned was particularly difficult, there was still the chance that I would completely bomb the entire thing, and be unborn for my efforts. That Erebos was so sure I wouldn’t felt nice.

"Thanks," I say, my titled smile awkward, "you will too, you know, at getting your marks. They can’t hide forever. This land seems to have a way of pulling everyone back together, at some point."