Tragedy

by **Laszlo** on October 11th, 2012, 5:02 am

The spaces in their smattered dialogue grew wider, the both of them exhausted in different ways, but Laszlo had no plans of leaving her alone. Fatigue drew his weight down on the sofa until he was on his back and staring up at the ceiling, listening to the fire and waiting for Fia's voice to rise above it again. Eventually Laszlo realized that Fia had not spoken for a very long moment, and he rolled his head to look at her. She had drifted off.

He returned his gaze to the ceiling.

Unlike his guest, Laszlo did not sleep. It had not come easily to him since leaving Kalinor the last time, when he had left his infant daughter in the custody of Duvalyon's family. She was in good hands. Laszlo knew this was true as Syna was bright. But she had still come from him, and he had still left her behind.

At least an hour passed and Laszlo laid awake thinking, feeling Fia's presence in the room and watching the lightning outside grow more infrequent. When the sky became dark, the Ethaefal anticipated his shift, and worried the resulting light would startle the human from the sleep she dearly needed. He begrudgingly pushed himself upright and onto his feet and ambled into his bedroom, busying himself with small tasks and pointless organization until he was properly pale and silvery haired.

There was also the fact that he had forgotten to mention that he was Symenestra under the light of Leth. In the company of his previous friends, this fact had grown mundane to him, and many Lhavitians were already aware of him, but the blacksmith was still new to the city. Unless Fia slept until morning, this was going to make for a somewhat awkward moment.

A Symenestra emerged a short time later, having decided sleep was impossible even in his own bed. He felt too uneasy, having a strange woman in his home. Even if she seemed harmless, what if she was just waiting until his back was turned so she could strip his home of everything valuable? The idea was laughable, but Laszlo had a famously poor judgment of character. Most of him was convinced she was genuine, but there was still that niggling doubt.

Having little else to do, Laszlo stepped stealthily back into the darkened room, picking up his mostly-full teacup and another nearby dish. After setting them on the counter, he went about picking up other stray jars and utensils left behind from feeding Avalyon.

He wasn't exactly going to make Fia keep her word on tidying his place.

by **Fia Eaven** on October 11th, 2012, 5:49 am

Fia's empty teacup was the last blemish on the increasingly tidy room. No human would have spotted the mess in the dark, but Laszlo was antsy and accustomed to evening's haze. When he came to fetch the cup, his body crossed the fire's red glow and cast shade over Fia. The sudden change in light made her eyes flutter open, but it was a glimpse of the gaunt creature that flung them wide.

Had her voice not been stripped by grief, it would have been a scream. Instead it was a rasped crack in her throat.
In a panicked squirm she fell out of the chair and kicked free from the binding quilt. Her flight began with her palms pushing her from the ground into a human gait.

Expecting pursuit, Fia slid towards the pantry and table where the Ethaefal had rested his katana. She hit the slight table, making it wobble between legs as her body folded over it to grab the sword. Gods for eyes like theirs. She could only hew so many forms from the mass of indistinct shadow.
With a sloppy jerk that nicked the web of skin by her thumb, the blade was naked. It wobbled in her unskilled grip as she turned it on the scarecrow shape behind her. She only knew where he stood because of his ruby halo from the dying fire. Distinction of feature was lost, but Fia didn't need it to know what he was. That elongated outline had been seared on the back of her eyelids.

The fear in her was more than the wary dread passerby had for the ghoulish race. Fia's was a primal, writhing thing. She looked at Laszlo like he had already broken her once and was returning for another sickening blow.

"I'll run you through Mikendril!" The name was dredged through her gut when she spoke it, kicking up shame she didn't deserve. It had enough power to keep her in a threat when action would serve better.
"Laszlo!" she remembered suddenly that someone else slept in the other room if the Widow hadn't already reached him. "Laszlo!"

by **Laszlo** on October 11th, 2012, 6:24 am

The human suddenly jerked awake, startling the Ethaefal, who gasped and spun around. The teacup fell through his claws and chipped as it landed on the floor. Not processing the actual breadth and width of the human's mortal fear, Laszlo looked down at it ruefully. "Damn it. Don't worry, it's not your… Fia?"

She wasn't recovering. At first Laszlo thought this was all a little funny. It was disorienting to wake in a place you didn't at first recognize, and the confusion cause momentary distress, enough even to fall out one's sleeping place. But this wasn't simple confusion. Fia was still scrambling away from him with the panicked haste of frightened animal.

Oh.

Safe to say then that she was familiar with the Symenestra. Really, he should have expected it. Suppose she was Kalean, after all.

"Fia, it's alright. It's just me. It's… Fia." Fia had gone for his sword. Laszlo's senses sharpened with sudden clarity, edged with fear. The moment was no longer humorous. This could end very badly.

The mirrored weapon glittered in the low firelight as Fia aimed it at his shadow. Laszlo lifted both his hands and backed up a step. The last time anyone had pointed a blade at him…

"Who is—Fia! It's me! It's Laszlo, I'm him." Instinctively, Laszlo felt the urge to use Hypnotism prick at the back of his mind, but he resisted it. He had already decided he liked poor Fia. He would absolutely not manipulate her forcefully. Not unless that sword was about to slide between his ribs. "Ethaefal, remember? Two forms. You're not in any danger, Fia. I won't hurt you. Put down the weapon."

Even his voice sounded different. Laszlo withdrew another step.

by **Fia Eaven** on October 11th, 2012, 7:21 am

The blade of the katana wavered, flinging drops of red light down its edge, but its tip did not lower. Silence accrued around Fia as she tried to comb through the Symenestra's words.
Her body wanted to believe, to untie its fragmented pieces and let them heal in the time they asked, but she knew the unparalleled level of cunning the race possessed. Every weeping part of her had a tourniquet to keep the spirit from bleeding out when she needed it most. She was not clever enough to keep pace with Symenestra machinations, especially not while wounded.

"Laszlo would have told me afore."
A well-reasoned retort. However, she did not consider the absentmindedness of its subject. At least her weak voice allowed a glimmer of doubt to cradle the words.
"Tell me," two sparse words of Symenos to get his attention before she broke into frail common, "What did you forget?"

by **Laszlo** on October 11th, 2012, 7:36 am

"Forget? Forget what?" Oh, she was a smart girl. Smart for picking up a blade and aiming at a Symenestra, and smart for assuming one would try to trick her. Laszlo felt guilty for his former race, knowing that he was a little proud of her.

Still, no fun looking down the business end of a katana.

It could be easily intuited that the frantic woman was asking a question to which only Laszlo would know the answer. The problem was that he didn't know the answer. He could certainly praise her quick-minded tactic, but he wished she'd let him in on what he was supposed to stay to keep her from killing him.

To be fair, he did forget to mention the small fact that half of him was a Widow.

Hearing her speak Symenos, however, was troubling in a different way. There were only a handful of ways she could learned those words, and almost none of them pleasant. Laszlo grimaced. This was more than just a startled panic.

"I didn't tell you, I'm sorry. I forgot that. You never did ask though, did you?" He was being snide? Where was that coming from? This situation was serious, and Laszlo was quickly growing tired of his battles with women. His patience for the frightened blacksmith was dwindling by the second, and all he could do was make wise remarks. He had spent too much time around Duvalyon.

"What do you mean, what did I forget? What, my katana?" No, that wasn't it. "My shoes?"

Laszlo would have told me. Honestly. She'd known him for less than a day, and she was already making assumptions about his character. Did he really come off as reliable to her? Dangerous prospect.

by **Fia Eaven** on October 11th, 2012, 8:22 am

The katana had fallen with Laszlo's final word. The weapon hung at Fia's side, ungainly and useless in a novice's hand. It made one wonder if she would have been able to make good on her promise should Lhex have turned the hunt in Mikendril's favor.
Despite the give in her knees, she rounded the table and collected the cloth and the hilt it once wrapped. She gave Laszlo a wide berth as she passed. It didn't matter who breathed life into the body, the shape of it still hurt her.
It made no sense to fear a form, or the recollection it conjured. Which is what made this angle of the fear all the more dreadful to the poor pragmatist. It had no root in reality, so it could stretch to monstrous sizes and have no abatement.

Fia sought the fire for its light. She slid the blade through the glow until she saw the speck of her own blood near the hilt. She dutifully wiped off the smudge of red with the fabric and returned the katana to its sheath.

"I should have..." she said with a bit of a rasp, "...asked I mean."
And that was it. No excuses, babbling or barbs to try and make him regret growing frustrated with her.
"That's enough excitement for me life, I think." She didn't look at Laszlo while she talked, but a watery laughter slipped in amidst the the words. "Yours too."

by **Laszlo** on October 11th, 2012, 9:59 pm

"Yes," Laszlo breathed, his posture slowly relaxing as his heart began to stop beating in his ears. Rubbing the back of his neck, he turned to look at the glaring light of the hearth. Well not at it, but near it. Fia had been stumbling and groping around as if she was blind. It must have been growing dim. Difficult for him to tell the difference with these eyes. "I think so."

It had grown chilly in the room, so that was indication enough that the fire needed refueling. His muscles continued to twitch with a fight or flight instinct, but everything seemed to be alright now. Attempting to shake it off, Laszlo slowly stepped toward the hearth, picking up another cut log from his stack of firewood. He held it in his hands for a lingering moment.

"Mikendril…" he said the name back to himself. It sounded Symenestran. Laszlo sighed. "Gods, you poor thing." The log was placed into the fire, and then Laszlo retreated back to the sofa again. "Something happened to you. And now Denval…"

Someone always had it worse than he did. Easy to forget that self-pity didn't make him the center of the universe.

Then he'd snapped at her and she had just taken it.

"I am so sorry, Fia." For whatever it was worth. Laszlo couldn't rightly apologize on behalf of an entire race. Especially when he condoned what they did.

He leaned forward on his knees again, clasping his fingers. You wouldn't think it, to look at her, that there was so much wrapped inside the delicate, star-scarred package. He couldn't help but think back to hours ago when he'd unwittingly ushered the girl in out of the rain. It had just been a simple gesture of good will. Laszlo wasn't volunteering to be made witness to the darkest parts of her life. What did he invite into is home?

Duvalyon must have thought the same thing when he received that letter from Alvadas.

"I didn't mean what I said. You didn't have to ask. I become a Widow, it's a polite thing to mention." Laszlo snorted softly. "This shape has caused me so much trouble. Difficult to find a place where I fit in, even as an Ethaefal in Lhavit. I try to keep from mentioning…" He lifted his head, looking up at the girl. Brittle, pathetic thing. "I want to ask if you're alright but I know you aren't. You're frightened and alone."

He could have told her he wasn't one of them, the Symenestra, but it wouldn't have been entirely true. Laszlo didn't belong with their race, but they still belonged to him.

"So am I." He looked down again, playing one long, tapered nail against the other. "The rain has stopped. I won't stop you from leaving." Still, despite the burden she'd brought him, he wasn't sure he wanted her to go. "What are you going to do?"

by **Fia Eaven** on October 11th, 2012, 11:13 pm

As much as she hungered to be gracious, the woman flinched when Laszlo stepped near to feed the fire. Fia bundled her fingers together and demanded they be still, ashamed of her reaction. Though it felt like having a bucket of vermin poured on her lap, it was the last time she made any motion of apprehension for the evening's duration.

"Thank you, Laszlo" Fia answered, hoping the gratitude reached from the newly stoked fire to the sacrifice of empathy. None were called to feel another's pain, but only in this did varying hearts reach common earth.

"I don't know yet," she said honestly, "Suppose I just keep on. Are there things one is supposed to do?" Her wondering expression was genuine. "Won't say I'm not terrible sad. Won't even say I will mend soon. But 'twill come." She smoothed her dress in the same way Laszlo rubbed his neck. A tactile attempt to work through hard thoughts.
"'Tis more joy in life than not. And it's because of love I'm grieving." She smiled with a dose of that tragic sweetness. "Tomorrow I won't feel so noble about it, but me head has the words when I can pick them up again." She almost reached a laugh, but it faded for lack of vigor. "I don't normally drop this much on a person's doorstep. 'Tis true. Me family calls me sensible most days. "

Fia began a thought, but waited a quiet span until it filled her complete. It was not more than three steps until she knelt by the sofa, fitting her freckled face into Laszlo's line of sight. It took more than the Ethaefal could yet understand, but she put her hand over his clawed ones.
"'Tis alright, though," she looked at him bravely and fully, "All of it. Even if it isn't."

Not as strong as she liked, she withdrew and began to collect her things. With cloak and apron filling her arms, she stood before Laszlo again.
"'Tis not proper-like for me to ask, but I might as well finish the job of abusing you roundly." She tried to articulate but broke into unsteady hopes, "Would you--? Could I--?" Her head fell forward with frustration, casting disheveled hair over her shoulder.

by **Laszlo** on October 12th, 2012, 1:55 am

When a small, pink hand appeared over his pale ones, Laszlo brought his head up to look at Fia. He looked perplexed as he tried to see past her eyes to discern what was going on behind them, but when she spoke, he realized he didn't have to. She laid it there in his lap. 'Tis alright though. All of it. Even if it isn't.

"Yeah," he murmured, not sure if he agreed. It was the one of the wisest things he'd ever heard a human say, but it felt like a lesson he hadn't properly learned yet.

She drew away, and Laszlo looked at the memory of warmth she'd left on his hands.

By the time Fia had gathered her things and prepared to leave, Laszlo had migrated from the sofa to the hearth, kneeling in front of it as he jabbed at the fire with an iron poker. He had to squint to look at it, but being enveloped by its heat and resulting sparks of crackling wood were satisfying. Fia approached him again, and Laszlo stood slowly. For some reason, he felt a pang of guilt being so much taller than she was. The girl was already afraid of Symenestra.

She tried to stammer out a question, but it wouldn't come. He tilted his head at her. "I can walk you back to the Inn, if you're ready to go." He wondered if she would be comfortable with that, having a creature like him bestride her under a dark sky, painted in shadows. It couldn't have been what she was asking. Laszlo glanced at the door. "Or… I have a spare room, if you still don't want to be alone. It's rather cold to be out walking at night." Especially if her cloak was still drying.

The furniture would have to be rearranged. In retrospect he began to feel embarrassed that he'd procrastinated for something as insipid as sentimentality. Inwardly, he started to cobble together fanciful excuses to the stacked bed and desk if she accepted his offer.

He found himself hoping she would stay. After what he had seen her go through, he didn't feel right leaving her on her own.

by **Fia Eaven** on October 12th, 2012, 4:42 am

Fia's face was flush when she rescued Laszlo from his attempts to translate. "I was trying to ask if I could visit again."
No, she did not want to be taken through the quiet roads with a Widow looming beside her. Her head held enough images of Symenestra cutting agilely through the dark to keep her dreams varied for years to come.

But what were words without fulfillment? Her Da would not have stood for it and marched her back to Laszlo until she got the grit.

She didn't want the spider's company, but she did want Laszlo's. Perhaps if there was something familiar in this one's features, she would be consoled. Fia tried to chart him from under half lidded eyes. All she could mark as human was a supercilious nose and indifferent brow, everything else was distorted in length or made beastly. She betrayed her hopeful search by noting his eyes.
Violet, just like Mikendril's.
There was no comfort there. Fia would have to swallow the wriggling frog whole. She weakly swung her cloak around her and tied her apron with the miraculous deftness of a woman.

"It's very good of you to offer. Everything. I'm still on the Inn books for the night." She clasped her thrashing cowardice and held it to the ground. "Would you walk me back? I'd like the company very much if'n you don't mind."