'Twas lovely while it lasted. I'll never forget you. "Mmh." Laszlo made a noise of agreement, following Fia's eye line to the soft glow of Lhavit. "Too right." He meant it; Fia's statement was true in too many ways, for him as well as for her. Syna's Goldenlands. Abalia. Even the tavern in Alvadas was missed in little ways. In the future, he might be saying the same things at Duvalyon's funeral ceremony, or other friends he might make. Certainly, his own daughter's. It was peculiar, the way mortals were always searching for something that was lasting and permanent. The truth was, they were as fleeting as everything else, and all they were looking for was for something else that would last as long as they would. Laszlo's attention shifted back to Fia as she began to compare herself to the city. There was little he could say, though he understood the feeling of being out of place. He gave her an encouraging little smile as she chided herself, charmed by her modesty. He wasn't sure what she had to be worried about, but he disagreed with her anyway. The fondness he had for her company, however plain she thought it was, was apparent in the way he warmly looked at her. The expression drained away when she innocently directed a question at him. His mouth parted and his posture stiffened, as if bracing for a physical blow. Despite his carelessly bringing it up, he hadn't expected Fia to inquire. Usually she let him have his air of mystery, and did not ask him personal questions about his past. That may have been her politeness during the course of their lighter, easier acquaintanceship. Now the wall that stood between them had chipped away, and they had become something closer to friends. But if she knew half the things he had done, she would think better of that. Swallowing, Laszlo's eyes fell away. He turned his body to the water, then leaned on his arms on the ship's railing. He glanced at his short, human-like nails for a brief, thoughtful moment, before rubbing at his chin. "A… misunderstanding," he managed finally, wearing a sorrowful look. He could not possibly explain what had happened in Syliras three years ago to make him leave. There was too much happening for him at the moment. Abalia's memory was slipping away as the kersha slid by the Misty Peaks. It felt like he was turning his back on her. And he thought he had been leaving behind Fia as well, and now that he wasn't… And Gods, what was Laszlo going to do when he actually reached Ahnatep? It was only dawn, and already there was too much to worry about. There was no room for confessions as well. "A story for later, perhaps," Laszlo amended. "It's not a happy one." How many of his stories were? "Ask me again when boredom of months at sea is starting to kill us. And when I've had enough rum." The ship bucked softly and Laszlo swayed, grabbing the railing for additional balance. He felt a sudden swell of nausea, and didn't like where it was going. He had forgotten that part of the voyage from Syliras to Alvadas. Clearing his throat, he grasped for something to distract himself from the rocking of the vessel. "So. Tell me of your mother's family in Zeltiva. I've never been there." |