Closed Days of Rememberance

[Fallon]

There was only silence to the words of the woman, who for once spoke the words of wisdom – even if they were from another – at the right possible moment. There was only the smallest of nods in understanding of what was necessary. For that was what it was. Chewing upon her lip, the faint pressing of those emotional scars rising up. And whilst they pressed, hard as they were, she knew she had the support of Zandelia behind her. Listening, understanding and being willing to help where possible. Despite not knowing, it was something she needed. For some burdens were hard to bare alone. She could already feel the chilled grasp once more upon her, if not only for a few flickering ticks.

There was no further words for the subject of Hound, just the low gnawing emptiness of what he could have been to her had they had more time to find answers. With those little pieces of reassurance, those small smiles and mumblings of what Zandelia saw – strength, to help, to grow and to do. For that was all she could do regardless. Lips barely broke, ”Perhaps… we would be better off shifting the name of Hound elsewhere. A myth or onto another body. I… never mind. We can leave such thoughts for another occasion.”

No more, she did not want to think of the bitter taste it left within her mouth or the lingering sense of betrayal that came with such. This was her day, her moment to reflect and reveal what came of the past – whilst it may have been a place where it lay, and she did not want to create such a superficial time just yet. Not when there was something much more important to remember first. The past was filled with enough hard payments as it was, memories and aches that would forever make their mark upon the flesh. Prices for knowledge, for learning, for freedom. But, such things now where not to be pondered upon. No, the mood of the scene once more changed, twisting and turning into something much more.

For a moment she met the dumbstruck face, her eyes holding fast and communicating for her. There was a moment of hesitation, the revealing of the true nature of what was before her. A lute, a tool far different from their usual. It was an instrument of play -not a weapon of harm- a beautiful article to spread joy. Surprise, the gentle tones of the vibrating strings filling the silence between them. A study, the curling of the lips into a smile as words seemed to tremble and stumble into formation. But, there was familiarisation there. A happier memory rested within, lingering as it clawed its way to the surface.

Carefully Fallon gave a lean back and away, giving time for her to come to terms as she brought the instrument. A flicker of a smile, a prop up onto her elbow as she watched. It was not the best of pieces, awkward, unskilled and lacking, but that was the part of the learning process. It had brought an element of joy, the flickering of hope and a comfort to a world that was already lost. Fallon herself had no talent with such things, she existed within the world of stories and knowledge outside of her line of work. To ensnare, to entertain with a dithering of words. Her lips grew into a curl, eyes brightening as she resigned to herself to watching- if not for the occasional wince to the overly piercing cord.

”Fortunately,” Fallon breathed as the woman brought herself to a close of her current tweaking of the strings, ”There is no time limit par the ones that you put on yourself. I am glad you like it and I look forward to what else you can do with it. Never too late to learn after all.” Pushing herself up she gave a lean in, ”And give me something? Sunshine…” There was a long inhale, gaze growing soft and the warm tones seeping their way in. A peeking of white, a glow of happiness making itself known, ”You have already given me a gift. And you have given me company on a day that would otherwise be difficult to face alone. And that, is worth more than anything to me. And it’s with you that I want to make more happy memories.” A smile, a true one with the tinting of cheeks as she said it. It was with careful hands that that it was laid to rest, quietly put away and to one side.

There was a gentle reciprocation to the kiss, a lean in and the caress of the cheek. Her lip gave a curl, a fluttering of emotions within. Zandelia, more of her world than she actually failed realise until now. That scent, that feeling, that security that she knew she could find within the woman. Fallon knew she was far from perfect, but, for her she would try. Pulling herself back, she let her arms snake around the woman, wrapping and seeking intimacy. Lips breaking into a pleased grin, the gentle tap of forehead and the meeting of the gaze. And it was there she simply looked, a low, calm hum escaping from her throat.

”And mine? Well, I have a feeling that whatever I say you won’t believe it anyway,” she pulled round and let her chin rest upon the woman’s shoulder, her words little more than a whisper between them, ”But, I will say anyway. You are a fire, burning, passionate when aflame. A bright light within my darkness, and one that I would never trade for anything in the world. Thank you… for taking the chance with me. Because, I don’t think I would have made it this far without you.” She took in a long inhale, thoughts turning around in her mind. Things made sense, things added up and found answers within themselves, ”Now? Well… I would like to go to the Baths. But before that…”

There was a lean away, her fingers gently taking Zandelia’s. Holding them she let the gloved thumb run across the knuckles. An inhale, the first part of stepping into the past. Those eyes, the smile the comforts of the embrace. Fingers gently squeezed, the gaze looking deep in their searching, the blue-green meeting the emerald. A flicker rested within her chest, a moment of hesitation within her thoughts. No, she had to face her inner fears, those demons that rested within the ego and hid from the world. And with that, the first of many admittances would exist. A sheepish glance, the stepping around of uncertainty. It was piling up now, the nagging, and the internal questioning. Things were hard to remember from years that were so buried and foggy, mere snippets of the torture and suffocation that came with it.

Eyes looked down, lips parting as she tried to find the words to pick from. She could have been wrong of course, it could have been a misguided feeling that she was not so sure about. There was a chew upon her lip, a deep inhale as she tried to consider the inner feeling that rested within. If it was not the case, then she could label it as a mistake and they could move on. But it was the fact it was difficult to remember, those times from the years within the fog where uncertainty lay. Her head tilted to one side slightly, the idle playing coming to a halt and the lips parting into words, ”Do you… ever get the feeling you’ve met someone before?”

[Zandelia]

The words upon the Hound were oddly reflective to the thoughts that she herself had had about the notion of his mythology and what spectral nuances surrounded him. His was a dangerous legacy, one which could easily prove to snap back at them and bite them hard, tear their throat out like the canine his namesake was capable of. She tilted her head for a few moments, wondering if she should reveal the groundwork for what she had in mind and the way in which it had already been accomplished. It had been mentioned before, in passing, and perhaps now was as good a time to restate it – a distractive line of thought when required perhaps.

“It’s funny that you should say that Fallon because I have already, almost, managed to set up a scenario that would prove to be the death of the Hound. To the city of Sunberth at any rate. Most think he was made up or dead already but some still think he is alive and murderous,” she paused, not referencing the incident with the general but it was silently acknowledged, “there is a bounty upon his head to be collected according to some. We could find some targets, dress them up right for people’s tastes and kill them. Hound eliminated and rumour can do the rest for his association with the Scars” she shrugged at her own words, it was an option – a choice to be made.

“But you are right…another time. When the time is right and the mood one of scheming in the shadowed corners of a tavern or something. I know the glint of the eye you get so I’ll be sure to be ready to discuss” she agreed readily, it was a sensitive subject and one that would take time to plan. The day was about other things.

One way of many, if she wishes to do it differently then so be it. As far as I am concerned she is the leader and the burden of deciding falls to her. I can only advise, try to help where I can. Support the weight. But if she is to lead she must decide she told herself firmly, she wouldn’t budge on that notion.

Fingers drummed upon the case of the lute gently, a steady rhythm as without her mind knowing it the fingers of her left hand played out the tune she had just been trying to get right but with far better grace now they were not upon the lute itself – an oddity that the other woman might notice but she did not. She was instead lost in thought, wrapped in consideration and a wry smile flooding her face as she just lay there, simple pleasures of shared warmth and a growing bond that was consuming much of her unease at what lay ahead, what she was and what she might one day become. It would be fair to say that she had never really planned for herself, only for her activities. Fallon had been correct – she never really looked after herself. Now she was trying to but it was a double-edged blade. She liked some things about herself and detested others, yet the detestable parts made her effective in her shadowed world of intrigue. She was a damned puzzle and she couldn’t figure herself out.

“Well I am glad that someone appreciates me, even if it isn’t myself. If I made your day easier, then I am happy that I came, even happier that I could help. As to the memories…I can’t promise the happy I don’t seem to attract that kind of thing but…but, I can promise that I will try and that there will be memories” she grinned at the words, words worthy of Fallon for once perhaps coming from her own mouth. The true smile that she liked so much, she tried not to get lost in it and the thought of the Bathhouses and what possibilities lay ahead.

I can think of one good memory I could make for her there… she chuckled inwardly, silently as a mischievous look crossed her countenance.

“And you would have made it just as far…perhaps with less style but...” she trailed off and instead subsumed humour with a warm look as she cupped the cheek gently, “you always have such pretty words. Better with them than I am. I think I’ll let you tell yourself how I feel, you know it anyway and it’ll sound better coming from you” she stated simply, it was true and Fallon knew it – or suspected it at the very least – she had no words for what Fallon meant. Saviour, partner, leader, lover, companion, friend, guardian…all of those things and more. It was pointless trying to state what was un-expressable.

Then the subject turned once more, the words almost sombre and slow, drawn out of her painfully perhaps as the glance turned distant and downwards. Thumb pressed against her hand, probing the knuckles as she spoke, tentatively at that too. The question was one she had not been expecting, had thought would never be asked. She had hoped perhaps that she would never have to tell the story – the full story. Truly, it seemed, Tanroa did possess a sense of humour that centred upon petching with Zandelia’s life and its trail of events. She gripped the fingers firmly and returned the squeeze.

“Yes…it is something that we all get I think. From time to time. The sense that we have done this before, that you have talked to someone or seen someone. Sometimes it is true and others just a feeling. I’d say it goes for everyone” she chose the words carefully, wondering if this was a testing or whether Fallon did actually remember. After all her own memory was foggy at best of those days, buried deeply and only brought out recently.

“For some,” she stroked Fallon’s cheek and lifted the chin upwards slightly, “more than others. For truer reasons. Why do you ask…” she trailed off then, it felt wrong to maintain a charade when it was about something shared as she remembered they had shared it.

She sighed once, deeply. This was going to be a long day indeed she suspected and there was little point in putting up any facades or attempting to lie or skirt the issue - if her suspicions proved true. She owed her more than that.

“How much do you remember? And for how long has this been nagging you?" was the simple question.

Then the story would come, she knew it would. It would have to.

[Fallon]

There was only the pursing of lips, the brow only creasing as she decided upon Zandelia’s words. A consideration for them almost. Still the pursing of them ended soon enough when she looked upon that smile, and the possibilities of the future. A tap upon the nose, the darting of the tongue, ”Don’t let your imagination get ahead of you now. Soon.”

That odd subject however quickly returned itself. Words were distant, or more testing in nature than normal. The returning squeeze, the reassuring in its own way as she continued. Pondering, she traced around the issue – least that was what Fallon felt –, the inner naggings and feelings pressing their way up. Snippets but nothing solid or that could be used. A chew upon the lip, the shifting of mental layers that kept things long buried. That feeling, where did it come from? What was its source? Darkness, there was darkness. A pain, piercing and sharp. Her brow furrowed slightly as she looked deep. Suffocating, snagging, she pushed the layers back, brushing and sinking in low. A mire of black that consumed her mind. It wrapped, it tightened, and it burned. The clink of chains, the striking sting upon the flesh, the seeking of the warmth that would protect. The guard, the shield against whatever lay beyond.

So deep was she in her musing that she gave a flinch when those fingers touched. The snapping out of it, she gave a blink, surprised yet torn expression upon her face. Eyes grew large, that long pause as she returned herself to the present. Disorientated would have been the best way to describe her, a moment of pause as she tried to bring the information together. Flickers, flashes, nothing truly solid to hold onto, little more than wisps that escaped from her fingers as she tried to grasp upon it. Mouth opened to speak, but no sound escaped. Lips closed, a frown, another flurry of blinks before finally she answered the sigh and posed questions.

”I remember… how much of what exactly?” a question answered with a question. There was the faintest of trembles, the subconscious trickling into the flesh and seeping its way in. She wet her lips, eyes darting, looking, searching for the answer to her own question. Fear, she felt fear. That apprehension of the unknown and something else, deeper, older. There was a shake of the head. Denial? No she could not hold herself back could she? Eyes looked, but did not look, a step back almost from the scene itself. Her throat constricted, a tightening of the hold upon the hands she held.

”I… a little while?” Fallon winced. Her palm snapped away, fingers rubbing against her temple. Was she panicking? A little, maybe, but even she thought it was an irrational reaction. There was nothing to fear here, there was nothing to be alarmed of. There was no reason, no cause for such a reaction. She lifted her gaze, the green-blue orbs flickering. Emeralds. Smile. Za. Za-

A moment of hesitation, the drawing of blanks that looked for an answer where there was none, ”I’m sorry. It doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter at all. You’re right, it’s just a feeling. Just a dream-“ Nightmare, she internally corrected, ”-Just a dream. A dream.” Pushing it down she exhaled, the grip loosening and the eyes looking away. That feeling of dread clung to her, deep and suffocating in its hold. One that would not shift no matter how much she pushed against it. Withdrawing her grip, she reached her hand around, firstly giving Orvin a pat upon the head and then wriggled her fingers to the crutch. A smile, forced and a strained one as she brought it over and rested it upon her lap. There was a careful inspection, a long few breaths to quell whatever was turning within, eyes boring down upon the wood before she began to shift. A walk would shift this feeling, she knew it would. Pushing herself up, she gave a stagger, finding footing if not for a few winces and moments of struggling. Once solid, she reached down to the ground, fingers grasping onto the glass ball and tucking it away.

”Forget about it Sunshine. It’s just a feeling,” she gave a wobble, her hand gesturing down to the woman, ”And smile. It’s a pretty one. Plus it’s a fabulous day!” The sooner they moved on from such topics, the better. It made her feel unsafe. Change the subject, quickly avoid it and bury it once more. Push down that growing sense of confusion and replace it with something else. She gave a point, ”Come on, to the baths with you old woman! T’is much more comfy there. And… I am done for today. It has been a nicely productive, in its own fashion. Don’t you agree?” A flicker, an ensnarement of a room rising up in her vision, and then was once more promptly being pushed down once more – the layers quickly shifting over it where possible.

[Zandelia]

She watched Fallon carefully, wondering what was slipping through the mind as the face shifted and became what she assumed was thoughtful – with a sliver of concern perhaps. The biting of the lip was something she was beginning to associate with deep concentration in the other woman but despite that there were no words of remembrance, nothing to indicate that she was the older form of the little girl Zandelia remembered. There was growing confusion in her own mind but without proof beyond doubt she was hesitant to broach the subject to resolve it – there was little point if she wasn’t and if she were then it would be broached eventually. From the way that Fallon was talking it seemed that whatever it was had been eating at her, to the point where she had initiated the discussion herself.

And yet now she shies away from whatever it is, taking my words as truth as if I held all of the answers. Almost as if she doesn’t want to really consider it. Shovel…I suppose she thought to herself as she listened.

Then there came what, for Fallon, seemed to be akin to panic – or at the very least disquiet. Furtive glancing of the eyes, the wetting of her lips as if they had gone bone dry in seconds and the quick diverting of attention with the response of her own question. It was an elegantly done thing, placing the onus of discussion upon the shoulders of one known to not want to put Fallon through discomfort. Not at the moment, whilst she was still recovering from the last patch of discomfort Zandelia had managed to get her into. Even if she had made sure she hadn’t been put out of action indefinitely. She opened her mouth once, tried to speak and what courage she held fled her and her jaw snapped shut once more.

“Yes…of course. A dream. Dream,” she echoed the other softly, knowing all too well that whatever it was wasn’t a dream at all. The snapping back of the hand for no reason, the rubbing of the head and the irrational quickening of breath…no, whatever it was would return.

And there is nothing I can do to help with it. Sometimes, as they say, all you can do is pick up the pieces after something happens. Can’t stop everything. Sadly she sighed to herself inwardly.

“It was just a question anyway,” she continued as smoothly as she could, bringing the matter to a close almost, “you know where I am if you want to talk” she left that invitation there regarding the issue, one day she suspected the door would be kicked in earnest and whatever wedges blocking it the existed would be obliterated.


Still, she could not see into the future and so, for the most part, was merely assuming the worst would happen as it so often had the desire to do. To meddle, to rear its monstrous head and pick a happy couple with the words ‘There you are, I’ve been looking for you’. She grimaced slightly but managed to turn it into a small smile as the more jovial mocking washed over her. She shook her head and heaved herself up much quicker than Fallon did – already standing with the lute case under her arm and the now empty bag draped over its bulk before Fallon was settled. As ever she refrained from helping – it was a challenge of willpower the other relished on some level she thought. To win, to not be beaten.

“Yes oh glorious leader, to the baths,” she echoed once more, with amusement this time, “though I would remind you that Wolf years are a lot quicker than old lady years. You’re probably older than I am, practically ancient I’d think” she stated it in as normal a tone as she could, almost as if reflecting upon truth.

“And how could I not agree, I learned much and was given a wondrous gift by someone who clearly knows me better than I know myself,” she continued as she set a slow pace towards the Bath Houses in the distance, “but is far too smart for her own good because he will now be kept up by terrible playing for a long time I suspect. I mean…you did want me to come back earlier after all and I must fulfil that promise no?” she looked at her and gave a sweet smile.

“And done for the day?” she raised an eyebrow slightly, “are you sure you’re not getting older by the second? I remember a young woman filled with endurance and stamina. I’ll have to check you for grey hairs next,” she did smile then, a little banter given back for once about her age, “anyway, I knew you thought I was old. Not my fault they’ve seen more hardship than they deserve - old bones indeed. Warm water would do them some good” she stared into the middle distance.

“Do you good too” she muttered as they continued the slow pace onwards and she wondered what had made Fallon so jumpy and distraught.

[Fallon]

Fallon simply looked upon the woman with a cocking of the brow, and the purse of lips into a line. For a while she simply stared, gaze taking in the shape as they walked and the free hand raising. From there she simply gave a firm prod against the woman’s arm, ”Yes, ancient. Older than time itself. I cause the many to tremble within my wake as I walk through the ferocious roar and growl of aeon’s claw its way up my throat and into the present. For a wolf at least.”

She gave a lean towards the woman at that point, eyes full of mischief and her fangs being bared. With a lean away she continued her pace, focusing on making a steady speed as they made their way to the Bath houses. Uneasiness still hugged her, eyes flickering, the mind struggling to cover things up. It would not be buried quickly enough, her heart looking desperately for something to divert her attention onto. The mind however begun its upward dragging. The black, the emotions that came from somewhere deep within. Thing that were once buried began to rise, twisting and turning upwards at a great speed. Smother it. Kill it. Destroy it. There was an inhale, a click of a step as they met the path, the deep hold clawing its way round.

”Yes, dreadful. I shall have to acquire some earmuffs to cover the terrible plucking,” She let the teasing tone escape, but even then it gave a slight tremble, ”Yes, I am done for today I think. I have focused attention enough on suc- Me? Old? Never. I will probably skip the grey however, straight to white for me!” Was it getting harder to breathe? Was it the ache upon her ribs that was restricting her so? Another deep inhale, focused as her eyes shifted and bore on ahead. No, it was not the aching bones or the complaining of muscles. Deeper, burning and consuming in total. She gave a step, air halting within her lungs.

The body refused to breathe, a strain as whatever was being held back gave a rush forward. There was a tilt, the horizontal twisting up onto its side, the colours blurring together. The mind gave a blink. Did she just loose her footing? Or was she just feeling light headed suddenly? Her grip tightened upon the crutch, the better foot slamming down onto the ground. That emotion, that lacking control that consumed her. Frightened and feral, silent yet loud; a complete turn and twist to the current level of calm. There was a moment of stilling, not that she registered it herself - the mind was consumed by something much more. Eyes grew glazed, the once tense jaw slacking slightly as she swayed upon the spot. She could not hold it back no matter how hard she tried.

Clawing pain, it hurt, it burned. Eyes narrowed, fingers looked to grasp upon anything. Tiny hands, looking to hold another. Searching for hope within the darkness. Fingers gave a twitch, unresponsive as Orvin brushed his head against them. There was a rock upon her heel, a vague shift to one side as whatever plagued upon the mind. Look after. Protect. Shield. Grasping upon the leg, pulling and trying to defending. Stop the pain. Smile. No pain. Not tears. Hold. A blink, she did not see or hear the tone of humour lost behind something else. Her brow gave a crease in pain, the limb swinging limp. Frozen on the spot and unable to move on. There was a yap from the wolf, a worried press as he tried to grasp attention. A whine, he gave a dash towards Zandelia and set to nipping at her in urgency. The Emeralds. Can’t you speak? I’ll look after you. Be safe. Yes, Za. Firearmll. Fallon.

A mumble, if it could even be called that. Eyes were still unfocused, a lurched step forward, walking but not quite. The foot gave a step, barely touching, her hand weakly reaching out. Darkness. Holding. Girl. Master. Chains. Eyes barely lifted, an almost frightened look as she tried to grasp upon the arm. When did everything begin to be so hard to hold? Burying and smothering was no longer an option, or more over it was an option that was ripped from her. Fingers gave a curl, a flurry of blinks as she forced words to come out. As a stumble, a stutter as she tried to bring something forth. A word, a single noise that could explain. That connection, that feeling, anything to try and link up what may have happened before in the recedes of her mind. The articles that refused to move previously now rotated round, spinning and slipping without control. Grounding, she needed some grounding. A click, she saw the pair of emeralds, a moment of confusion upon her face as she tried to force something out. A mumble, that long worried look of something she could not place. That familiarity, that feeling of being momentary lost and looking to create a link. To make sense somehow within the internal madness.

”Firearmll.” she croaked. Her eyes looked away at that point, a berating to herself for the allowing of such nonsense to escape. It came from somewhere, but the link as to where was unknown. A mystery that she did not understand. There was a shake of the head, as if it would rid the confusion – but it did not. So instead she simply lifted her gaze and looked the woman firmly in the eye, ”Please I... Don’t know where it’s from. But I know it. I want to understand. I... do you... From… somewhere?”

[Zandelia]

She heard the whining bark of Orvin, paused and then continued onwards a pace under the assumption that he was just being his usually strange self - what time she had spent with him in peace had been tested by the injury of Fallon the days afterwards. Their relationship - if it could be called such - had been strained since then and she had taken Fallon’s advice to let it be and wait for him to come around. She presumed that there was just something interesting to the canine, a rabbit or something perhaps. That was until he appeared at her side and nipped her free hand hard enough to draw a little blood. She flinched and pulled away, hoping he wasn’t going to go fro her throat. He Didn’t seem to be wishing to attack though, instead dashing back the way he had come once more.

“For petch sake Orvin! Gods that hurt!” she wrapped her mouth around the small wound in the flesh of her palm and hissed as she tried to soothe, turning to see what he had been so excited about.

It was then, as she looked back, that the reasoning behind the so-called assault was revealed and instantly forgiven in that part of her that was able to rationalize still. Something was wrong, Fallon was paused and as she watched stepped forwards slowly and clumsily, almost as if she were about to lose her footing. Fear rippled, the concern that perhaps something had happened to the wounds that were still healing. Matthew’s words echoed about her resting her ribs and the warning of prolonging the recovery. She cursed inwardly at her own foolishness at letting Fallon out so early and she turned, making her way back rapidly. It was only as she was before the woman, looking into the distant gaze that other idea surface.

Petch…I told her this would happen. Too late too… she berated herself despite the fact that there was nothing she could do. She recognized that gaze, the one that possessed someone when the past caught up to them. The set of the face, the almost drugged way of moving.

It was only as the words were spoken that the deep sigh came and the truth was solidified to support her suspicions. Memory flickered within her own mind, dragging her back to those days and the ungodly amounts of suffering. She had done her best to protect, to shield but even now and seeing the woman the girl had become she found herself a failure. The best she could say was that Fallon was still alive. The certainty rocked her and she spread her stance to stop herself from buckling - she was needed now more than ever. She herself had dealt with the majority if the demons from those years, had transferred them and processed them where she could. She still hated Slavers ad that would never die but, for the most part, she had settled her past. But how could she possibly answer the question?

“Yes…they are familiar to me…”she licked her lips and glanced aside momentarily as she tried to find a path that would work and cause little discomfort - or as little as was possible.

Either way she knew there would be discomfort, that the memories were far fro pleasant. And Fallon had buried them deeply it seemed, so deep that whatever damage that required healing with catharsis was now making itself known in ugly ways, unexpected ways. There was guilt also, the supposition that if she had never reunited with Fallon the other woman could have lived her day without ever having to face them for what they were. She would have said nothing, let it go and been reassuring were it not for the exactness of the wording and the look in her eyes. That look she remembered from so long ago, that needed direction and help. She grit her teeth and steeled herself to the possible maelstrom.

“Fire…is F. Arm is an A. Double L…your name. Or the beginning of it,” she stated simply after a while of simply thinking and she wrapped her arms around the other woman gently, “I had hoped you wouldn’t remember. It was a terrible time…years. You couldn’t speak…or wouldn’t speak unless you were alone. I…I did my best” she tried to speak normally but the voice was cracking now.

“I couldn’t protect you it seems, not from everything. Not even from myself,” she almost groaned that last bit, “but you obviously keep recalling it, even if you don’t realize it. I’m sorry that I lost you but…you had a better life than you would have had from what you have said”

“It was for the best….I haven’t heard those words since…Firarmll…so long ago I..” there were no further words, she had no explanations from the other.

“If you want, well, we could sit here for a while? If you aren’t up to walking?” she asked tentatively.

[Fallon]

Despite the return not being immediately noticed, her current state being difficult to break free of it did not mean she was completely unresponsive to what was going on. Orvin was back once more circling and staring up at her for the first time with intelligent eyes, tail curling downwards in concern and his ears flattened against his skull. There was only a flurry of blinks as she looked upon the woman, an uncontrolled reel of images that danced before her very eyes. For a moment she pulled back, a moment of fear mixed with confusion. Lips twitched, mouth a gape as she watched the two faces merge together into one. Young and old, past and present.

The hand, the strike, the way the face contorted with the movement. It twisted and changed, a smatter between two states. Conflicted, fractured it required her to take a step back before her senses. A rush, it was ripped from her in the flood, eyes watering and blinking as that filthy, festering exposure was left. Decay and pain sunk its claws in, deep gouges within her ego that she once before simply were nothing were in fact something. Her throat constricted, another blinking flash, Darkness. Pain. So much. Lungs hurt. Hunger. Real hunger. There was a stagger back, footing momentary lost as she tried to escape those mental apparitions. Orvin side stepped away, head low as he gave a dart of safety behind.

It was unsettling, the palpitations loud within her head, the struggle to find breath despite their being no restraints. Lips were wetted, a firmer shake of the head, the mumblings of a groan as she tried to shake it off. Stop it from spreading and controlling her. A futile task as the woman still stood before her, words hanging within the air with the full weight resting upon them. Control, she needed something, anything to stop it. Smother it before she became lost within. Instances slipped and snagged, the close in as things were explained. Hard to grasp upon things, there was a momentary flinch as the woman spoke gently and the arms wrapped around. She had to remind herself there was nothing to fear, no danger of anything encroaching.

A tremble, her arm came round and the fingers knotted into the back of the woman. She inhaled deeply. The scent of flesh, the distinct smell that defined Zandelia to her. The touch, the tones, the crook of the neck where her head had nestled in. With a nuzzle she screwed her eyes up, a flare of nostrils, and a low gasp as she simply held on. The cracking, the weakness that was shared between them. One could find some logic within it all, but even then it was a difficult task. One remembered, whilst one struggled to keep those things long gone from ripping her apart.

Zandelia’s admittance came. A revealing of her own secrets, those things from deep within, the past failures and the hopes that were put into place. Another squeeze, the pulling back of those haunting things and those lacing regrets. She hoped that she buried, she hoped that she could not remember. To a degree it was true, it was merely the surface of such things that haunted deeper than even she knew. Steadying her breathing she pressed into the warmth, seeking a moment of stability despite it being weak. She needed to be strong, to find that strength that defined her so.

Bringing her head back she gave a press of the forehead, a gentle bump as she found the tense level of normality. If it could even be called so. Things were still difficult to piece together, but the woman before her had the answers. Her love and her guardian, one she adored in the present and - whilst differently in context – in the past also. Lips gave a tremble, parting as she met the emerald gaze. There was a gentle press upon the cheek, her arm wrapping round tightly. No, there was nothing to be worried about and nothing to fear here. It did not mean it was easy however, but if the woman was here to see her through the storm then there was nothing to fear.

Her pulse still throbbed hard, but it was more bearable now – if only just. The flickering had slowed to a more bearable speed, a gentle lean away as the shaking hand touched upon the cheek and rested there. Nodding to the woman’s question, her head turned to the path side. That nauseating sense of dizziness still rested there. An exhale, she simply let her form drop to the floor and both hands smothered her face. Or at least until she patted the ground next to her with a chew upon the lip, ”Sit, yes. Sit… just a breather. Relax in the baths soon. Just… need to catch my breath.”

“What… is there something wrong with me? What… happened to me? Us?” she asked after a moment of silence. Orvin had given a sheepish pad around, a firm nudge into the thigh of the woman. A rattled exhale, an almost frustrated tone escaping from her throat, ”Why can’t I remember? Why? I just… I…” Lips were drawn into a line, a wince as she felt another flicker flash through. Fire and blood this time, ”Sorry for turning the day sour. I didn’t mean to… How long have you known?” She looked directly to the woman at that point. Unwavering it was, the deep recesses of strength finally beginning to claw its way up to the surface. Something had changed within, she knew that, but she did not know what exactly. Swallowing, she gave a definite nod of acceptance of what was, ”I survived. I grew up.”

[Zandelia]

“It’s okay, we can rest a while. There’s nothing here as can spot us anyway,” she tried for a soothing tone as she flicked her gaze about them just to confirm that to herself for reassurance, saw nothing and the gaze came back to Fallon, “the bathhouse can wait. I don’t think it’s going anywhere” she bit her lip slightly in thought.

This was a situation that she wasn’t prepared for, not in the least. She hadn’t even had much time to think upon the revelations that had been building for some times - now confirmed in a more dramatic way than she would have liked. It was not that there had been no time but more that there had been more pressing matters to attend to since that day in the blood and shadows. Perhaps, if she were honest with herself, she had focused too much upon the physical and left the mental and emotional wellbeing of the other woman to flounder. Then again, what could she have done? She hadn’t even been sure and now, seeing the reaction, thought she might have done more harm than good. Being a shield, it seemed, came with collateral damage that sometimes just couldn’t be held back.

The past, it haunts her and yet she buries it deeply. She remembers but doesn’t seem too want to. How can I tell her it will be okay when it has already happened? What words of comfort would be enough when they would taste a lie in my mouth? The only reason they don’t bother me anymore…much…is because I’ve lived with them for years. Like and old scab that is never fully healed but closed enough to keep the blood from flowing she thought to herself darkly, flash frames of those days flickering within her mind’s eye.

“I haven’t know, not for sure, until today. I had…suspicions…perhaps. Little flashes of connection that seemed to make sense to me, recollections and…well,” she spoke, the words seemed to come from some distance, slowly bubbling up from the depths, “I think I really knew when I carried you back from where you rescued me from. You spoke the old name you used when younger - ‘Za Za’ - and the way you buried into me even when almost unconscious. It…was familiar” she continued doggedly, if she was to say it then it would be said in full.

“Then there was the necklace, I thought I had seen it before. And your eyes and the name…not common things in the most diverse of places. And it just…felt…like we had met before. I can’t explain it but I only knew for certain just now. I didn’t want to press the matter because you always seemed to refuse the past and it made no sense if you weren’t that little girl from years past” she sighed then, deep and filled with an echo of pain.

She stopped for a while then, thinking upon how to answer the question of ‘what’ and what to say or not to say. There were things that, even to her memory, were buried so deeply that only the feelings remained with no visual representation. Some things were too dark to revive, too sordidly self-defeating to keep close for recollection. She knew what she had been sued for, towards the end, yet kept it at bay and without mental brushing - for the most part. She gave Orvin a small ruffle of his fur, for once not being snapped at as she eased herself down now to sit beside Fallon. It was strange, to know she was the girl she had grown up with and also the woman she had grown to adore. Or not odd, depending upon one’s perspective she reflected.

“What happened?” she asked the world in general as if the answers would be slipped back upon the voice of the winds themselves, “slavery happened. That oldest of Sunberth’s professions…besides the whores. Actually…probably odler than the whores if stories are to be believed. My father, Markus, made me the slave. Was one for a longtime before you appeared. You never told me exactly how you got there, don’t think you remembered. Or you just didn’t want to say”

“Firearmll,” she smiled at that, “your way of communicating. We were building a fire for the master, cooking his food too. Then he hit you and threatened more and I attacked him. You bit his ankle I seem to remember. Or something like that. Then the dark room, together, small comforts. I promised to keep you safe, I did my best” she trailed away then, she had failed so many times recently that the promise seemed more mocking now and it saddened her.

“We grew up, we survived, we got free. I lost you after that as I said. Seems it was for the best. couldn’t do much to find you though, was half blinded then,” she tapped her dead eye softly, “as for what happened in between…I’m not sure you want to know. I don’t even want to know and I can remember a lot of it. Not all though, I think my head protects itself a little there. We were hardly well treated and our…owner…he was one of the worst of them. Cared only for coin, wine and his next petch. Which was often a slave girl” she shuddered at those words.

“Not much more to say, I’m sorry that you had to live through it. And that now you are having to remember it. Slavery…I loathe slavery. There was a time I tried to fight back against it but I was too weak, too stupid. I’m not even sure it can be erased from Sunberth anymore it’s just so…sadly stupid”

“What matters is that you grew up to be a fine woman, there is nothing wrong with you at all as far as I’m concerned. Not in this regard. You probably can’t remember because you know, deep down, that they were not nice times. Nobody wants to remember being beaten, starved and toyed with for fun. You probably got very good at blocking it out…better than me” she sighed once more, turning to Fallon and putting an arm around her gently as her strained shoulder complained at her.

“You’ve done nothing to apologize for, I thought that we had come out here for reflection anyway and not all reflection is pleasant. Why would you think that here is something wrong with you?” she asked softly.

[Fallon]

Fallon did as she did best. She listened. And whilst those words came did she try to piece together that fragmented history that defined her so. There was a deep inhale, a forcing to level the breathing and to halt the onset of further panic. No, she was better than this she knew that. But it was an uphill struggle against a flood of pain and hurt. There was a rough inhale, that creeping chill of the blood that rested within her. It turned her cold, her lips trembling as Zandelia explained. The links, the subtle ties that led them together. There was another wince, the massaging of her temple with the palm of her hand. Pressure rested upon her chest, a momentary tightness as her ribs complained once more - not that it was even shy of what was going on internally.

Jaw gritted tightly, a momentary flinch as Zandelia brought herself to sit down. Eyes were large, absorbing of the woman beside her - she carried the knowledge of such past events, and was able to cope with it. But this exposure stung, the lists of hints and things from long past being revealed. An angry wound where its scab had been forcefully ripped off. Lips gave a purse, a swallow as she forced words out, "I don't think... I remember? I mean, if I was young then and it's hard for me to remember now, it would be a hard task to say the least." Teeth gave a chatter, an attempt to form words.

With a brave face worn, Fallon looked upon her hands. Orvin made a shuffle of movement and brought himself to rest at their feet, his large eyes staring at them and the tense atmosphere. She needed to work through it, the darkness, the sticking black that clenched tightly around her heart. The echo was heard, her brow creasing to the deep sigh of pain. It was hard for both of them as it was, but maybe now it was exposed things could finally be cleaned and left to heal. She gave only the nod of understanding as the woman spoke, her nostrils flaring occasionally to such in the scents. Calm, she needed calm.

"Fire... arm L-L and On?" She raised an eyebrow, almost as if trying to pick it out from between the haze of the past. She gave a wince, her hands turning in gesture, firstly the hand opened and flared, then a tap upon the arm before she drew the two L's in the air. Her hand gave a tremble after that, and fell onto her lap, "You did keep me safe. Not all shielding is physical... you... well," she pinched her brow, she could hear those whispered promises from long gone, "You... gave hope within a darkness. You gave the strength to keep on going when all seemed lost. I... probably wouldn't have made it without that. If I was a child and it wasn't for you..." She did not need to say any more after that.

"The necklace. It's always the bloody necklace," she grimaced at that point. Fingers plucked upon the silver chain, the pendant being pulled out from the folds and left to glimmer in the light. Eyes saddened for the moment, the edge glowing within the sun as it spun and the faint feathers that made up its shape revealed to the world, "Wings always come in pairs. They always have a partner... somewhere. So many people told me that. But," She paused and let it drop to her chest once more, "Well, never find it now. He isn't coming back."

Softening she let her gaze turn to Zandelia, eyes drifting down the form at the subject of treatment. There was another flicker, the sounds of muffled groans and the quite beg to stop, before reality rushed back once more. With a frown, the tone turned thoughtful, "I suppose... that would explain why I impulsively hate chainers then. Even if it suppressed behind... doors. We will fight back against it, somehow. We'll find a way. Might be hard but we'll find one." With the arm pulling her closer, she could not help but bring herself to lean into it. The arm wrapped around in response, the fingers tracing idle patters upon her side. It was hard to keep a straight face, her expression kept on twisting between the emotions as she tried to feel the situation out. To express and to communicate.

Her arm wrapped around tightly and squeezed, the head burrowing deeply into the crook of the woman's neck. It hid her face, but it would have been clear by the accumulating damp that revealed how she felt. Relief, tears, the confusion and strain - it was only now that she was just about capable of expressing it in a frustrated voice, "Because I can't remember. Because it's... hard to. People think it's weird, that it's not normal, that the individual is broken and... a freak," She remembered her early years in Syliras at that point, the questions, the jab at her lacking to share and the inability to do so. And how no one seemed to quite understand the why factors.

"I hate it. I hate not knowing who I am. What I am," she released a hiss, thoughts sporadic and irrational in their construction. Words repeated themselves, trying to find an answer to the softly posed question, "Everyone else think it's wrong," Fingers clenched tightly, a rattling inhale as she shook, "Use it as an excuse, think your some kind of violent animal when you don't remember, when you lash out but can't explain why, because you got scared of something but can't speak the reason. That you're just a petching monster "

[Zandelia]

She sat in silence and simply listened, there was little else that she could do and Fallon needed to get these particular demons off of her chest before she could move on and begin to stagger towards some form of catharsis - that much was clear simply from the words that were spoken and the way she looked into the middle-distance, her fingers clenching intermittently as the tale was unfolded and her own flickering of recollection happened within, or at least that was what it seemed like. Zandelia liked to think that she understood Fallon at least a little after their time spent together but truly this was new to her. She had never really had to play the counselor, had simply had the emotions of her own past beaten out of her through repeated hardship and her own uniquely dark history. She was not even sure that talking helped but she would do it if that was what Fallon wanted.

Care too much about her not to, even if it is uncomfortable for me also. Who knows what I have forgotten myself? What acts not remembered guide my own actions and feelings? Is it dangerous to unleash them? Or more dangerous to leave them be? she asked herself, the answer was elusive and did not present itself to her.

“I think that sometimes it is best not to remember Wolf, some things should be acknowledged but then set aside. Walking with such things in your head at all times is self-defeating at best, crippling at worst,” she responded carefully as she watched the fingers trace in the air with a smile, forming the two L’s, “yes…like that. Our first meeting too” she felt the smile slip, what had happened after was not the most pleasant of things.

Yet she had gotten Fallon at a time in her life that she had begun to give up on herself. Not because she had some high goals she had failed at, she had been too young for those, but because she had been alone and the daily grinding of punishment had battered her. She remembered how she had cried for so long, alone in the dark at night. Awoken early with barely any sleep to then continue the tasks appointed to her. She was sure that if she had not had Fallon arrive she would have broken, sooner or later. Fallon had provided and anchor, a point where she drew a personal line that she refused to let the world cross wherever she could. There was truth in what Fallon stated but it worked both ways and the other woman needed to know that.

“It worked both ways Fallon, it always does. You remove yourself from the equation but give me credit for giving hope. Perhaps I did, and if so then I am glad. But you gave me the courage to do it, just by being there. So many times I almost broke but that promise brought me back, though never quite the same again. I doubt anyone would be after our pasts. Still, I did my best and you…were you. Wonderful as always” she stated simply, factually. There was nothing more to be said, the other woman knew how she felt without asking.

How strange the world is, the weave of Tanroa and Lhex throwing us together. Separating. Throwing together again without us even knowing. Comprehending. A test perhaps? Or just another fickle twist? Were we always fated to meet again, or was it purely the choices we made? she asked herself silently, listening with a frown to the next portion of words that Fallon unburdened herself of - they sounded bitter and angry this time. A dangerous combination.

“He? You mean the Hound?” she asked, licking her lips slightly, she had never asked just how deep her bond with the elusive man had been and frankly was now scared to ask in case she lost Fallon, “well…perhaps one day they will return. Personally I think finding is far too romanticized. When you find something it is hardly ever what you want it to be. What you imagined. Perhaps, the trick, is to make your own partner wing. That way at least you can choose who you give it to. We do it all the time just without thinking, I think” she tilted her head at that odd turn of phrase.

“At any rate, there is one person who you know won’t leave and perhaps that can be enough until this other wing is found no?” she asked, it was only half-rhetorical.

The boundaries of their bond had been stretched, expanded and at the same time filled with all forms of dangers. It was enjoyable, felt right and yet it exposed them both. She wouldn’t trade it at all if she was offered the chance to go back and changed what had happened but the reality was that at any point it might break. She sincerely hoped that didn’t happen, would fight to keep it if it came to it, but she couldn’t control the other woman. Wouldn’t do that. She would have some firm words for this second wing though, if they ever arrived - to do right by Fallon or die sprang to mind quite easily. She shook her head at her own cougar-like response, the name obviously stuck somewhere within her.

“As to the hating, I think everyone does. Even in Sunberth. They just see no alternative, no way to stop it. If you want to unleash the fight upon them then I will gladly join. Haven’t killed a slaver in a while…” she trailed off and flinched slightly as the feeling of red hot pain rippled back, the spray of blood and disorientation of the moment of losing half of her vision. She stopped, it was too difficult to continue as she rubbed the dead socket absently.

She pulled Fallon closer, willingly sharing what comfort that could be offered as the true crux of the matter was revealed as she saw it. Fallon thought she was weird, a freak of nature that was somehow robbed of normality. She had spoken of the taunting of the other children but had not overly expanded upon it but now Zandelia thought that she could see how deeply such hurtful words had embedded themselves within her. She didn’t just remember it, she carried it and that was far worse. She actually thought she was monstrous, almost snarling the world in an echo of what she seemed to imagine herself to be. She was so wrong as far as Zandelia was concerned, on so many levels that she didn’t even try to count them.

“I don’t think that you are a monster…” she stated flatly, wishing that she could kick everyone who had made the other feel that way just once, at least.

“If I saw a monster when I looked at you I’d never have come with you, never even liked you. The world has too many monsters already for you to give yourself the title of such. You seek to create, not destroy, and that is admirable. You are beautiful, resourceful and as far as I have seen only want to give people a better life. One way or another,” she spoke slowly as she held Fallon close, “so you can’t remember? Most people don’t even remember what they ate for their supper a few days ago. Makes you human, something that you should remember in the future rather than believe yourself to be a pin cushion,” she tried for a little humor then, “you take people, give them chances and see if they can be more than they thought they could be. A changer and a strong woman with morals few possess. That’s what I see when I look at you…amongst other things” she continued as best as she could -defining Fallon in words, it was…impossible.

“Ignore what they tell you, as we know people can be idiots. If you want to remember then I will help you, even with the hard bits. But know that it will change nothing about you beyond making you more magical for surviving and thriving. If that makes you monstrous then I am one too” she finished.

“Do you think me monstrous?” she asked, attempting to prove her point with a question that was dangerous but perhaps necessary.