[Flashback] Grief (Vaas)

[Krysanthe]

14th of Summer, 510 AV The Commonrooms Krysanthe's Room The days that people die should all be dark and stormy. That would just make mourning so much easier. That way, on the somewhat scattered occasion of melting clouds, one could be reminded of one’s lost loved one and cry for them as the rain beats them in the face and the thunder mocks their pain, the lightning laughing at any so called injustice. But no, life doesn’t work that way. Sometimes, people die on bright, sunny days. On nice days. On the days that one would normally like to savor. What kind of life is it when the very sun that brings life is the symbol of what took it away? When the blue sky is not a free and clear expanse, a painter’s delight, but an ocean meant to drown those who dare walk beneath its unwavering existence? It is a life that too many people are thrown into, head first. It’s a life that wouldn’t have to exist if there could just be a storm whenever someone died. Of course then, one would never see the sun. ~*~ Thunder. Constant. Crashing. Rolling. Rumble. Endless. Roaring. Monster. Eating. Growl. Rumble. Deep. Angry. Unforgiving. Shadows. Swallow. Darkness. Scream. Scream? Who was screaming? Where did that sound come from? Water. Flowing. Shrieking. Falling? Who was falling? It was her. She was falling. No, reaching. Holding. Begging. The scream fell. The scream faded. The scream vanished into the rumble. No. It was there. Quieter. Distant. Endless. Screaming. Pain. Darkness. Breathe. Krysanthe started awake, sitting up in her bed. There was a moment of disbelief, where she couldn’t understand reality. It took her a moment to ensure that her bed was real, that her body was real, that she really was conscious, for she still heard the scream. It was still there. Constant. Echoing. It took her a moment to understand that the scream came from her own mouth, but the moment that realization hit her, her voice croaked and she was silenced. It was so quiet here. So dark. There was a bit of light seeping in through a crack in her doorway from the torches that were out in her hall. She lived in a corridor where there were no windows carved into the stone to let in natural light. Turn a corner down the hall a bit and you could see the sky. Krys hadn’t seen the sky in days. Two days. This would be her third. Or was it still night? She couldn’t tell. She only gauged the days by the sounds of voices outside her door. The more voices, the more likely it was that it was daytime. With the silence came the night. She sat in her bed, deciding that it was still night. It was too quiet to be daytime. The nightmares had been her personal plague for these two days. It wasn’t that long ago. It felt like it just happened, and yet at the same time, it felt like lifetimes ago. The agony was very much real that Krysanthe felt. It wasn’t the mere cliché heartbreak of losing someone close to you. It was real, burning, stabbing pain that made it hard to breathe and made her dizzy and numb and on fire all at the same time. The nightmares only made her relive the initial pain, feeling that stab every time she closed her eyes. Waking up to know the pain was real made the blade turn to flame as it twisted in her heart. She didn’t sleep very much. No, she was afraid to sleep. Afraid of what the nightmares would bring. When she did fall asleep, it was entirely involuntary. She was human, after all. She couldn’t live without her rest. Then again, you couldn’t really call it rest. She always felt more exhausted after she woke up from a nightmare than from before she had fallen asleep. Being awake wasn’t that pleasant either, for then she had to face the real nightmare. The truth. The truth that wasn’t simple, and yet was not at all complex. The truth that was too real. Too obvious. The truth that hurt her to the bone. Erasmus killed himself. Why? Why did he do it? He tried to explain. He apologized for goodness sake! But he went and took an eternal plunge. He always had a flair for the dramatic. Sure, he was subtle, but he never did anything half way. The waterfall was clean. It left no trace. It was final. It was definite. But it left one hell of a memory, and made for a terrible fear of the constant thunder of thousands of gallons of water rushing over the edge of a cliff. But why! Krys didn’t understand. She could never understand. He claimed that it was because he loved her. Because he loved her? That made no sense! If he loved her, he would have stayed. She would have followed him anywhere other than over a waterfall, and maybe that was the point. He said he was dangerous. That his race was never to be trusted. He told her horrible things, things that broke her heart, things that eliminated trust. But she still loved him. And he still abandoned her. He broke her and left her to pick up the pieces. Krysanthe could feel the anger setting in. She recalled someone telling her about the different stages of grief. Perhaps she read it in a book. Maybe she overheard someone mentioning it in a conversation. Whatever the case, it stuck with her enough to make some kind of impression. The first stage was denial. Well, she’d been there done that. There was no sense denying it now. But what were the other stages? Depression was an obvious one, but that wasn’t the one that was next on the list. Still, she felt depressed. Maybe that was just the background emotion to everything. Depression was what drove her. No, that wasn’t it. She was angry. That must be the next step. She felt herself getting angry. Furious, even. How could he leave her? How could he just abandon her? How could he treat her like this? It wasn’t fair! He didn’t understand! He never understood. She didn’t deserve this pain. He didn’t deserve to die! He didn’t have to die! It just wasn’t FAIR! Krys didn’t realize what she had done at first. She was in such a flurry of anger all of a sudden that she must have blacked out or something as she moved. One moment, she was sitting on her bed, and the next, she was standing in front of a broken mirror. She would have to get a new one. Her eyes scanned the room for a culprit. She found it on the floor next her desk. It was an object unfamiliar to her at first. An odd little brown rectangle. And then it hit her. The journal. Erasmus’s journal. The journal he gave her before he… It was her last piece of him and she threw it at a mirror, shattering it into chunks of glass that now littered her floor. She dashed over to the journal and got onto her knees, brushing off the reflective grass, cradling it protectively in her arms, muttering apologies beneath her breath. She rocked back and forth a little bit, feeling the tears in her eyes. She missed him. She missed his voice. His words. Suddenly desperate, she clawed the pages open for the first time since she received the object. Maybe if she just read this journal, she could pretend he was reading it. She’d be able to hear his voice through these words. It would be like he was sitting here, talking to her. The hope filled her that she could maintain some sort of connection, and she searched the pages for something readable. Something that wasn’t just scribbles. Wait, those weren’t scribbles. Those were words. But no those weren’t words. Not ones she understood. No, no no NO! This was symenos. Symenos! The language of the Symenstra. Sure, he had taught her a small amount of his language. She knew basic phrases and could read maybe a few scattered words, but not this. Not with the vocabulary Erasmus had. This meant nothing to her. It was garbage. It may as well have been scribbles. How could he do this to her? Even in death he managed to take away the littlest shreds of hope she still clung to. Because killing himself wasn’t enough. He had to rub it in her face that she had nothing left. She threw the journal again, this time at a wall. If she had opened the journal to the last page instead of to some random one towards the beginning, she would have discovered a letter to her. If she would have opened it towards the end, she would have found pages written in common. She might have even gotten some answers. But she didn’t look. She just didn’t know. It hurt her too much to even glance in the direction of the journal again. Instead, she just shifted slightly and leaned against the wall, ignoring the glass she was sitting on. She sat there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, trying (unsuccessfully) to silence her thoughts. Krysanthe remained there for a long moment, her golden eyes outlined with the pained red of tears that come and go. She listened as the world outside seemed to come alive. People were waking up. Must be morning. Day three. She was surprised she wasn’t hungry yet. She had some water in her room that sustained her. She couldn’t remember where it was from. It was old. Probably forgotten from some snack long ago. But it was wet. That water, and then a bit of the dried food she kept in her drawer. She really didn’t eat much of anything. One bit of dried peach was enough to make her want to vomit. Peaches. Why was it that everything reminded her of him? She moved again, cradling her head in her arms, her fingers stuck in her long red hair which she had neglected to brush. Hygiene wasn’t exactly a priority for her at the moment. Her breath got shorter and she began to cry again. The tears were sparse because she was dehydrated. Her mouth was dry. Her throat was sore. Then again, everything about her was sore. Still she sobbed, unable to contain herself. She just didn’t have the self control now that she had prided herself on for years. It just wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. And it would never be fair. She would never be able to explain the logic of her next move. Tentatively, Krys lifted her head. Her gaze shifted to a large slice of mirror lying next to her. Slowly, she picked it up and stared at her reflection. She was hideous. Baggy red eyes, messy hair. But it didn’t matter. That’s not why she picked up the glass. It had such a sharp edge. For some reason, the blade like mirror was tantalizing. She became fixated on it, tracing her fingers along the edges. She watched the blood drip from her fingertips. The pain was smooth. Sharp at first, but then more like a constant ache. It was cold, yet it burned at the same time. For a moment, she could focus on that pain instead of the pain of losing her entire world. She continued this procedure with each of her fingers, amazed at the effect the physical pain had on her. Sure, it was awful, but not near as bad as the heartbreak. Look at that blood. The crimson color reminded her of his eyes. His perfect little red eyes deep set in his perfect pale face. The spider that drew the fly in. That’s all she ever was. She was always just a fly. Krys didn’t like that existence. She didn’t want it. She didn’t want to have to deal with it anymore. It just wasn’t fair. She stared at the glass which may as well have been a blade, now smeared with her own blood. She wondered how long she could make the pain last. She could cut herself. Stab herself. Kill herself. It wouldn’t be that hard. Maybe she could die without thinking about him. Anything to take away the pain. The sorrow. The loss. It wouldn’t be that hard. No, it would be effortless. Easy. It really would only take a single slice… Knock knock. The sound of someone at her door startled Krys. The sound was loud, penetrating her sanctuary. The glass fell from her hand. She stared at the door in silence, waiting, for the moment forgetting about her darker ideas of suicide. Who was it? Why where they here? Perhaps they had heard her scream. Perhaps they heard the glass shatter and were here to ensure everything was okay. No, that wasn’t it. If that was the case, they would have showed up a long time ago. No, this person was completely unrelated. Or at least mostly unrelated. She hoped whoever it was would just go away. Leave her be. Leave her alone. Maybe they’d think she wasn’t in there. After all, there had been no sign of her in days. Then again, maybe that’s why they were here, because they were worried because they hadn’t seen her. But who would possibly be worried about her? Who was left to care? There was no one. Nothing. She had nothing left. But then again… She tried to be as quiet as possible. Was it him? Was it Erasmus? Maybe it was just a nightmare after all. Maybe he was worried about her and wanted to make sure she was okay. Maybe... No. It was real. Very real. Too real. It hurt too much to be a nightmare. But maybe…

[Vaas]

Staring at the mirror in wonder,Vaas can't help, but smile at his reflexion in the mirror. “This must be a dream...” He says to himself as he sees his hand touch his ginger hair. He twirls his hair in between fingers, and he sees his smile widen on the mirrors surface. He lets his finger fall, and he flexes his arms for the mirrors surface. He sees his frown envelope in the mirror as he starts to judge his body. He says to the mirror, “Maybe I should get some more muscles, so the ladies of Wind Reach will take more notice of me.” He flexes his arm even harder trying to get the bicep larger. He hears a hallow voice behind him ask, “Why bother Vaas your blind? You can't even notices a girl looking at you. Let alone trying to be physically appealing for them.” Vaas frowns and he sees it in the mirror. He responds to the hallow voice, “You know Voice. Your sort of a jerk aren't you?” The hallow voice responds in the same nonchalant way, “I am a realist, Vaas. Are you?” Vaas brings his hands to his face, and he runs it through his hair reveling emerald green eyes with speckles of gold throughout them. Vaas sees himself smile and leans closer at the mirror to have a better look at his eyes. He gives himself a impish grin and he says to the voice, “Not tonight, Voice. This may be a dream, but I think. I might stay in this dream forever.” The hallow voice and asks without emotion, “What about your friends Aela and Krysanthe. Wouldn't they miss you?”

Wake Up, Vaas.

Vaas' image fades away and two blurry images of red hair women appear on the left and right of the mirror. The faces are too blurry for him to see, but all he can see is the red surrounding their faces. Vaas laughs to himself and says to the mirror and the Voice, “I haven't seen Aela in mouths. She probably to busy in her glassblowing apprenticeship to even remember me, and Krysanthe has Erasmus. She will be fine without her childhood friend to tagging along.” He pauses for a moment and sees his sad face appear behind the blurry images of his two friends. He continues, but this time says with a proud grin on his face, “Voice, you should hear them together. I never heard Krysanthe talk so much in her life. I think she is truly happy with Erasmus.” The hallow voice asks him,“Is she really happy with Erasmus? You should really wake up, Vaas.” Vaas shakes his head and continues talking to the voice, “Voice, I am not done talking about Krysanthe and Erasmus, so shut up and listen to me.” The hallow voice says nothing, and Vaas continues talking about Krysanthe and Erasmus, “Honestly, sometime soon I believe Erasmus will bring Krysanthe to Kalinor. They will get married and have a whole litter of red haired spider babies, and in her happiness Krysanthe will forget I am blind and write me tons of letters that I will inevitably have to have Aela read them for me. That is why I don't think Krysanthe would miss me if I decide to stay in my dream, Voice.”

Wake Up, Vaas!

When Vaas looks back at the mirror, he only sees the blurry image of Krysanthe. She lifts up a clear image of the leather bounded book, and she throws it at the mirror. The book goes through the mirror and lands at his feet. He looks up at the mirror and he notices the glass start to slowly spider across the once flawless surface. Vaas whispers sadly to the voice, “Why are you showing this to me, Voice?” The hallow voice responds to him, “This is your reality Vaas, can you walk away from it? Just for a dream where you can see? I don't like to judge, but sometimes your a very selfish boy, Vaas. You should really wake up.”

Wake up you lazy boy!

Vaas just stares at the image of Krysanthe in the mirror and watches the cracks slowly spider up through the blurry image of her face. Voice's words cut him like a knife. He looks down at the leather bound book at his feet and picks it up. He brushes the glass away with his hand and smears his blood over the surface of plain leather cover. When his thumb reaches the reaches the edge of the cover, he gently opens the cover, and he peers inside its pages. He looks at the first sentence, and he notices the words of the book are all written in language foreign to him. He looks up at the Krysanthe image in the mirror, and he notices the pieces of the mirror are starting to slowly fall to the ground. Vaas tilts his head in confusion, and he quickly closes the book still looking at the mirror. In horror, he watches the mirror crumble before his eyes. He sees the shards of glass crash to the floor. Vaas drops the book on to the floor, kneels down, and picks up one of the larger shards. He looks into the glass and only sees the image of his gold flaked emerald eyes. Suddenly the piece of glass shatters into sand, and slowly Vaas goes back to reality. Vaas doesn't like his reality. In the complete darkness, the only comfort is the sound of your own voice. Vaas says sadly to the hallow voice and the darkness, “I think I better wake up now...”

KREE-EEE-AR!

Vaas slowly opens his eyes, and he hears Wind Dancer making his normal morning commotion on the foot of his bed. He sits up and peers around the room, but he sees only darkness. He lets out a deep breath, and he steps out of bed. Suddenly, he hears a familiar voice of his mentor Selia says with a giggle, “Vaas, you should really not sleep naked....You never know if you're alone.” Vaas eyes widen, he turns a deep red, and he grabs the sheet from his bed and covers himself. He coughs and says to her, “How did you get in here, Selia.” Selia laughs out loud, and says with a twinkle in her voice, “Well lets just say when I was young woman in my prime, I spent a few years in Sunberth with a local burglar, and he taught me a few tricks of the trade.” Vaas just rubs his forehead. Hoping Selia doesn't elaborate on her tricks or trades she is referring to. Vaas trying to beat down the emerging image of Selia and her burglar from his mind, he feels around for his bryda. Selia decides to says in a grandmotherly, “Honestly, Vaas I am old enough to be your grandmother, and I have seen many a penis in my day, and I have to let you in on a little secret, dear.” Vaas trying to banish this conversation from his mind brings his free hand to his head. He feeling a headache brewing, and his mentor is the cause of it. Amused by Vaas uncomfortableness, Selia smirks to herself and continues innocently, “If you've seen one, Vaas, you've seen them all.”

Vaas turns his head towards the elderly woman for minute and asks himself, “Seriously, does this creepy conversation have point.” He sticks up a hand hoping Selia will stopped talking, and he blurts out anything quickly before she has a chance to add to this scarring conversation, “For the love of Priskil Selia, Why are you here? I hope your not here in my apartment just to critique my penis!” He frowns wishing and hoping nobody was walking by his apartment at that moment and overheard his sudden out burst. Selia leans back in her chair and says innocently, “My silly Vaas, I will let the ladies much younger than I critique your penis for you.” Turning red again, Vaas quickly turns around and slips into his pants. He ties them at the waist and says seriously to his mentor, “Why are you here Selia?”

Selia frowns and says sadly to him, “Why don't you sit Vaas.” Vaas does what he is told, feels around for the back of open chair, and sits down. He leans back in his chair and puts his hands in his lap. When Vaas is situated in his chair, Selia continues, “There are rumors circling around the common rooms that Krysanthe boy friend Erasmus committed suicide three days ago.” Vaas' mouth drops and he asks quietly, “How is Krysanthe?” Selia shrugs and says to Vaas, “She has locked herself in her apartment. People passing by her apartment been hearing a lot of crying and even screaming at times. Vaas I think she is really trouble.” Vaas covers his face with his hands, and asks to her, “Does anyone know how Eramus killed himself or why?” Vaas shakes his head wondering to himself. Why Erasmus would kill himself? When everything for him was falling into place, why would he do something so stupid and selfish like ending his life. It just didn't make any sense to him. Vaas looks up when Selia answers him, “Honestly, Vaas the rumors circling around the neighborhood about him and her are too horrible for me to repeat. Just go to her before she does something foolish.” Vaas stands up from his chair without saying anything and walks to door. Before he leaves the room, he stops and says without turning around, “Thanks for telling me Selia. I'll see if I can help anyway I can. Oh could you lock up for me when you leave?” Selia smiles at him and says, “I'll figure something out Vaas.” After hearing everything he wanted to hear. Vaas grabs his backpack, opens the door, and leaves his apartment.

Vaas walks into the common rooms, and he can hear the bustle of Inartans going about their day. Having been to Krysanthe apartment, Vaas had no problems tracing his steps back to her door. However, in his head, he keeps mulling over what to say to her when he finally reaches her apartment. Nothing he say will stop her pain. Only time can heal the loss she is feeling, but even those words won't stop the anxiety that is starting to gather in his stomach with each passing step. As he walks down the hall, he overheard some people talking about Krysanthe, but he didn't care much for rumors. Rumors won't help get her through this situation. They will only make it worse. He turns right down a hallway, and he walks closer to the wall. He moves his staff to his left hand and uses his right hand to trace along the wall. He murmurs to himself, “Krysanthe is the fifth door down on the right side of the hallway.” He walks along the wall and starts counting when his hand feels wood. When Vaas counts to five, at the fifth door, he takes away his hand and listening inside. Silence is all he hears through the door. He frowns to himself and decides to knock.

Knock knock

After knocking twice, Vaas listens for a moment, but again he is greeted with silence. He tests the door knob, and notices it is unlocked. Why didn't anyone check on her? The door was unlocked the whole time. Vaas wasn't sure why he started to get angry. Was he angry at society, Erasmus, or himself? No, Vaas was mad at himself for feeling, so helpless at this moment. Nothing he could say to her can magically take away her pain. Vaas growls in his head and says to himself, “Pull yourself together Vaas this won't help Krysanthe.” Deciding to take a stand at his own frustrations, Vaas takes a deep breath and decides to knock again, but this time says through the door, “Krysanthe it is me, Vaas. I know your in there, so I am letting myself into your apartment. Please don't hit me with anything, or throw anything at head, please.” Vaas inwardly groans at his humor reflex. Why can't he be serious for just a minute especially in this situation? He wipes the sweat from his hands on his bryda, opens the her door, and walks inside.

[Krysanthe]

Krysanthe felt her heart leap to her throat as the doorknob wiggled. She forgot to lock it. Well, she didn’t really forget. She just hadn’t thought to lock it in the first place. Leaving it locked or unlocked was not a conscious decision. Still, that brought up her feelings of complete loneliness. So the door had been unlocked and no one had opened it up until now. No one had cared. No one ever cared. Except Erasmus. Erasmus cared. But where was he now? At the bottom of a river. ‘Krysanthe, it is me, Vaas.’ Krysanthe scowled. It was Vaas. Vaas. Not Erasmus. Vaas invaded her bedroom. He broke open the silence. Where was he all this time? Where was he when Erasmus jumped? Where was he? He could have made a difference. Could have at least tried. He could have- ‘Please don’t hit me ith anything, or throw anything at my head, please.’ What was that? An attempt at a joke? Was he joking? He could have been serious. He hadn’t seen much of Krys when she was upset. Sure, Krys got uncomfortable and was no social butterfly, and she had a short temper, but she had never been this upset. She was rather unpredictable. Perhaps he had tried to make a joke, but it was a real request. He didn’t want to get hurt. But he wasn’t the one who was hurt here. No, he wasn’t the victim. Krysanthe was the victim. But he didn’t care. No, he only cared about himself. They all only cared about themselves. They were all the same. Selfish. Egotistical. Idiotic. All of them. Her thoughts were scattered and her judgment was clouded. The distraught young woman picked up the glass chunk she had been messing with not a moment before, and her voice exploded, cutting through any peace that was left. “Go away!” She had tried to shriek, but her voice was hoarse and it hadn’t been as loud as she intended. The once illustrious tones of her vocal chords were now scratched and weak, sounding more like a forced whisper than a yell. It was still terrifying. Krysanthe drew back her arm and threw the shard of glass. It hit the wall a little more than a foot away from Vaas’s head, shattering upon smacking the stone. The crash as far louder than her voice, but only amplified her intentions. She clearly didn’t want to talk to anyone.

[Vaas]

Hearing the piece of glass shatter against the wall next to him, Vaas just turns his head a little towards the sound. When the glass hit the wall, Vaas was pelted by tiny shards of glass. He takes a step forward and he can feel a stab of sharp pain in his shoulder. He starts walking towards the sound of Krysanthe's voice. He says to her gently, “I am sorry about your loss Krysanthe. Eramus was a good man.” The last sentence caused him to question his last statement. Was Eramus a good man for killing him, or was he a selfish man for doing what he did to Krysanthe? In Vaas' mind, he was selfish and cruel, but he didn't know the whole story, so it wasn't right to judge. Still walking towards her, Vaas can feel the debris under her feet from the destruction caused by the grieving girl. From what he felt on the floor glass was everywhere. Cloths were thrown across the room. Vaas couldn't tell the extent of the damage she caused because of his lack of sight, but he can definitely tell this room won't be livable for awhile. Still walking towards her, Vaas says to her, “I can't imagine the hell you are going through right now, but I am not going let you face it alone, Krysanthe.”

When Vaas gets closer to Krysanthe, he can tell by the smell. She hasn't bathed in awhile. He frowns at this thought not wanting to think about what she has started to neglect during her grieving process. Vaas holding back the tears at the thought of what she doing to herself the whole time alone. Vaas looks up at her, and asks her softly, “How long has it been since you eaten or drank anything, Krysanthe?” Vaas sets down his back pack at his feet, and kneels down and grabs his water skin. Everyday, Vaas refills his skins with fresh water, so hopefully, Krysanthe will take some of water when he offers it to her. Vaas stands up straight with water skin in hand. If you are hungry, I think I have some trail rations in my pack too.” Vaas holds up the water skin and says to her, “You sound like you need a drink of water, Krysanthe. I can always get more if you drink it all.” He manages a smile when he looks in her direction, but Vaas knows this smile is only temporary in this whole ugly mess.

Still holding the water skin out to her, Vaas starting to get the feeling of helplessness fall over him. Honestly, all he wants to do is hug her and tell her everything will get better in time, but right now at this moment, he knows this will most likely make her more angry than she is right now. Vaas takes a deep breath and decides to confront the grieving young woman. He says to her softly and from the heart, “I don't know what happened the day Erasmus died, but Krysanthe, I want to tell you that you are not alone to deal with ordeal by yourself. I care about you Krysanthe, and I don't want to see you in pain. Please don't make me leave.”

[Krysanthe]

Sorry? Sorry! The nerve! What did Vaas know to be able to call Erasmus a good man? What did he really know of her Symenstra? Nothing! He knew nothing and he tried to act like he knew it all! Krys thought she was very clear with the glass that she wanted Vaas to leave, so why did he barge into her bedroom, not turning away? Wouldn’t the shattered glass on the floor be enough to warrant turning and running? Krys didn’t move. She just watched him in silence, ready to hit him in the jaw as soon as he was close enough. ‘I am not going to let you face it alone, Krysanthe.’ Slice! There went what was left of her heart. So someone cared. Krysanthe forgot what it was like to have a friend. She wondered why Vaas still gave her the time of day. She had nearly completely abandoned him since she met Erasmus. All in all, she had been a horrific friend, and now he stood before her, holding her up as she entered the gates of hell, doing everything he could to pull her back from the depths she had been thrown into. Krys could tell by the look that crossed Vaas’s face that he could smell her. She suddenly felt very ashamed that anyone would see her like this. She probably reeked. She looked down, not wanting to look at Vaas anymore, noticing that her hands were still bleeding. She bit her lip, staring at the vermillion substance, uncertain. What was she going to do? Panicking slightly, she rubbed her fingers furiously on the sides of her bryda. The blood only smeared and continued to flow. Gross. What a mess. She certainly wouldn’t be doing that again. She was glad she had only cut one of her hands. She didn’t answer Vaas when he asked her about eating and drinking. He held out the water skin, but she did not accept it. There was a large part of her that still just wanted him to leave her alone. A fragment of her screamed to take the water and soothe her aching throat, and her turning stomach told her she needed food, but she ignored them both. Her empty heart told her that she needed to be alone. Two golden eyes stared blankly at the skin, not moving, not speaking. Just silence. When Vaas finally finished speaking, Krysanthe stayed still for a long moment. She didn’t say anything in response at first. She was thinking. Thinking about how Vaas knew nothing. How he wasn’t there. How he will never understand. How she will never understand. How she couldn’t fathom why the one she loved would do that to himself. She thought and wondered and fumed and questioned and cried and screamed without ever making a sound, without ever moving a muscle. She just stared. After a long moment, though, she did speak, her lips forming a scowl. “It’s a good thing that you’re blind, then.” She stated with surprising clarity.

[Vaas]

After Krysanthe last comment, Vaas eyes widen in shock for a moment than narrow in a moment of anger. 'What does my sight have to do with me not noticing her pain?' Vaas asks himself in his head. Yes it might have been poor choice in words because he is blind, but any idiot can see the situation unfolding around her. For long moments, Vaas just stares at her trying to calm down. Before he says something he might regret later. With the anger still not going away, Vaas starts to wonder why he is even here. Him and her barely spoken a word since her relationship started with Erasmus, and during that year, Vaas made every effort to take interest in her life throughout He even encouraged their relationship to blossom. Vaas just loved the fact she was finally happy. Anger starting to subside, Vaas runs a hand through his hair and his eyes stare straight at her. He wasn't going to let her scare him away, and he says sternly, “Don't bring my lack of sight into this Krysanthe. Yes, I understand you are angry at the world right now, and if you need someone to let your anger out on me, fine, but any person can notice the pain your in Krysanthe, and they don't have be able to see to care if you are all right.”

How can anyone know what to say during this situation, and Vaas is realizing he doesn't have all the answers. Vaas knows he has to ask her what happened between her and Erasmus to understand the whole situation, but part of him would love to stay ignorant of the events that lead up to Erasmus self inflicted death. He says softly not wanting to know the answers, “I have no clue what happened between both of you that day, but I want to understand, Krysanthe.” He swallows nervously unsure of her reaction to this questions. He asks gently, “Why did Erasmus kill himself, and what did he say to you before he died?”