Fall 40
The wind whistled over the sea of green, sending ripples and waves of grass wherever it pleased. Nida, who wasn’t interested nor concerned with naming conventions, found the name of this place perfectly appropriate. She let her hands stretch out, feeling as the fibres tickled her palms. The familiar exhilaration filled her, as the beginnings of journeys always did. But the journey ahead was a long one, and in some ways, pointless. The purpose of going back was to bring Nehsmay to her home. But Nehsmay was gone. Still they moved through the plans and the routine, if only because it brought them solace. Both she and Seliarus had loved the strange and bubbly Vantha. Even without her, the Bondmates still followed her plan.
Neither Nida or Seliarus had brought up why they should go back. Nida felt the pull towards the North, the longing, the homesickness, but she wouldn’t bring it up. She was quiet now, quieter than she had been before this journey. Perhaps it was the realization of how easily the closely-knit group could break apart. Perhaps it was the re-emergence of loneliness.
Pathetic. Still thinking about how he left you? Or how she left you?
Perhaps, thought Nida, answering the voice that chattered within her mind. But you know the answer as well as I do.
I know. I just love to watch you wallow in that self-pity. You know it would be better if you just left this all behind. Just ran and ran until your legs gave out and exhaustion replaced all your worries. You could leave him, and you would never worry again. The voice sounded almost kindly, for that was surely the most gentle thing it had ever said.
I can’t leave, Nida smiled absently, knowing that this was the signal of the beginning of a familiar argument.
You will not think this, once he has used you and tossed you aside once again. You are too loyal, too passionate, too devoted. The snake will always take you for granted, you’ve always been there.
I will stay. You know this. I will be whatever he wants me to be. I can be content with that. She answered calmly, though the last sentence was a bit uncertain.
Ah, but for how long? The voice cackled, throwing off the gentle façade. With that, it faded back into the recesses of her mind, watching from a comfortably shady corner as it surveyed the actions of its host.
The Kelvic’s lively step halted for a moment, registering what the voice had said. Then with a grim determination, she continued along. Her steps felt heavy, and the full distance of the journey finally hit her. She turned to the familiar figure beside her, hearing the familiar sound of his breathing, feeling the familiar weight of his booted feet on the ground. She would run her gaze over his form, as if reassuring herself that he was still there, and turn her focus purposefully back to the road.
She wouldn’t speak unless he said something, and with the silent Seliarus, the chances of that happening were low. She wouldn’t turn from her course, wouldn’t react, wouldn’t follow any other action unless he told her to or a threat presented itself. Nida would continue to follow the trading caravan, a silent bondmate at her side, and a malicious voice cackling in her ear. The loneliness was kept at bay. It wasn’t much.
But it was enough.
The wind whistled over the sea of green, sending ripples and waves of grass wherever it pleased. Nida, who wasn’t interested nor concerned with naming conventions, found the name of this place perfectly appropriate. She let her hands stretch out, feeling as the fibres tickled her palms. The familiar exhilaration filled her, as the beginnings of journeys always did. But the journey ahead was a long one, and in some ways, pointless. The purpose of going back was to bring Nehsmay to her home. But Nehsmay was gone. Still they moved through the plans and the routine, if only because it brought them solace. Both she and Seliarus had loved the strange and bubbly Vantha. Even without her, the Bondmates still followed her plan.
Neither Nida or Seliarus had brought up why they should go back. Nida felt the pull towards the North, the longing, the homesickness, but she wouldn’t bring it up. She was quiet now, quieter than she had been before this journey. Perhaps it was the realization of how easily the closely-knit group could break apart. Perhaps it was the re-emergence of loneliness.
Pathetic. Still thinking about how he left you? Or how she left you?
Perhaps, thought Nida, answering the voice that chattered within her mind. But you know the answer as well as I do.
I know. I just love to watch you wallow in that self-pity. You know it would be better if you just left this all behind. Just ran and ran until your legs gave out and exhaustion replaced all your worries. You could leave him, and you would never worry again. The voice sounded almost kindly, for that was surely the most gentle thing it had ever said.
I can’t leave, Nida smiled absently, knowing that this was the signal of the beginning of a familiar argument.
You will not think this, once he has used you and tossed you aside once again. You are too loyal, too passionate, too devoted. The snake will always take you for granted, you’ve always been there.
I will stay. You know this. I will be whatever he wants me to be. I can be content with that. She answered calmly, though the last sentence was a bit uncertain.
Ah, but for how long? The voice cackled, throwing off the gentle façade. With that, it faded back into the recesses of her mind, watching from a comfortably shady corner as it surveyed the actions of its host.
The Kelvic’s lively step halted for a moment, registering what the voice had said. Then with a grim determination, she continued along. Her steps felt heavy, and the full distance of the journey finally hit her. She turned to the familiar figure beside her, hearing the familiar sound of his breathing, feeling the familiar weight of his booted feet on the ground. She would run her gaze over his form, as if reassuring herself that he was still there, and turn her focus purposefully back to the road.
She wouldn’t speak unless he said something, and with the silent Seliarus, the chances of that happening were low. She wouldn’t turn from her course, wouldn’t react, wouldn’t follow any other action unless he told her to or a threat presented itself. Nida would continue to follow the trading caravan, a silent bondmate at her side, and a malicious voice cackling in her ear. The loneliness was kept at bay. It wasn’t much.
But it was enough.
