It was logical, and honest. Something that the woman registered at least. A fact and knowing that such things needed to be remembered – for better or for worse – as they were the defining points of character. They shaped the world, the people and those that lived there. The emotions, the responses, the way the world took on different hues and colours. And it was perhaps such things that Fallon was still trying to run away from. Acceptance of emotions was one thing, but embracing the past for what it was proved to be a difficult task. And one that she did not want to do alone. Eyes lifted briefly, that settling upon nothing in particular but simply looking in their gaze. She found it hard to think for herself, if not for a few flickering moments, before it lowered and turned once more to the city. There was no stopping of the hold, no pull back as she let her head gently rest and the words of reassurance and truth reach her.
”But…” She paused, as if trying to find the right words, ”It is frightening to remember.” Her skin prickled at that releasing of admittance. A low exhale escaping. It was a daunting task; whilst she was happy to delve into the secrets of the world and to draw up the things long forgotten, for her own self it was a task she desperately tried to escape. Something that was becoming increasingly hard to avoid. Zandelia certainly had a way of bringing out those lingering memories forward, of brushing away the earth and drawing out what lay beneath. Compelling in its own way. Lips pursed into a line, the gaze lowering to look upon her hands and the dull throbbing of what was before her. She felt useless in her own way, weak and unable to solve the situation using logic. But, that was the way of life, ”We can’t see the future… but. The past is a dark place. I am… well you know how I feel about diving into such a place. I don’t really know what to suggest… Sorry. I… we will just have to be careful.”
She released her lips, her brow creasing into a bothered frown as the woman continued to speak. Words fell into place, the warmth of the hold soothing upon the turbulent mind. That bitterness hung though, heavy in its existence. She pressed against, gentle and the arms slowly wrapping around, a press of the fore head into the cheek. What could she say back? What could she offer to aid as strength to the woman who was so bothered? Connections, links, bonds and things that held people together – something that often was prone to laying shattered within her hands. She mumbled, ”They always break in the end though. Somehow. Always my fault…” there was the tap of the glass ball, ”Guess it’s just my way of trying to hold onto sand.”
A shuffle, she let her shoulders lean back into the chest of woman and the head rest next to hers. A gentle reach up with the hand, a knotting of fingers into the hair. She was not completely sure on how to speak, or on what to say exactly. There was a swallow, the twitch to the words within her ear. It was true, but sure as well didn’t mean she wasn’t going to at least try and bury it. That’s where it belonged. Safe, despite its forced slipping out from between the cracks. Ones that were quickly beginning to grow inside. A tremble, a nod in understanding to the conclusion on the subject of the father. To look beyond what was initially presented. There was the stealing of a glance out her eye, a checking upon the expression of the woman before she looked forward once more.
Still, it gave her some small comfort that it was alright to hold onto such things. And for that she was grateful. Her hands gave a pat, gently searching for the other and once more finding some lacing between the digits. For a moment she simply inhaled, sucking in the air and enjoying the moment of closeness. Zandelia was precious to her, she knew that much. And it was such a thing that she wanted to see grow into something more. She had spoken her words, she knew of the shared adoration between them, something that she so desperately wished to preserve. Her lips gave a curl, followed by the lightest of snorts and a mumble, ”That’s… why I want to change it.”
Her throat tightened for a moment, knuckles whitening as the fist clenched. She remembered Sunberth so vividly in her mind’s eye, the stench, the dark grasp that held over her. The fears, the worries, the pains and tortures that came with it. An element of venom rose up upon her tongue, ”It takes much, too much. So much… pain. Torment. I… hate it. The good of the world is lost, and the pure elements of youth destroyed within an instant.” The jaw tightened, an inhale, then a whistling exhale. And with that, the bubble of rage died down once more, ”I used to think I was weak, built upon uneven ground that wouldn’t do me any good. My… Hound refused to acknowledge a prospect. Only the strong live and the weak die, to quote him. Had to… throw myself into the fire and burn out those impurities. Those fears. Else, well… I was pathetic,” Shaking her head she brushed the memory aside, ”Managed to learn some courage I guess.”
She gave a sigh, a gentle nuzzle as the woman looked away. Both where tense upon the emotions, struggling upon the ideas of the past and the regrets of what had come across in those moments. A peck upon the cheek, she looked up onto that emerald eye, the blinking of a memory within her mind. And as those lips spoke, the tale of a far off land – Lhavit – and the past revealing itself for what it was. A scar, a slave, the niggling of doubts and insecurities. There was a moment of stiffening, the play through of a darker scene upon her senses. Pain, burning wrists of red. Those pleading eyes looking to protect from the harshness of the world – bright shining stones of green. Emeralds. Scar. Emerald.
A flinch came at that point, a flurry of blinks in timing to the near cackling of the woman. What had she just said? There was a smile upon her face never the less, so with that factor Fallon brought her own lips into a curl. Happiness, she liked it when the woman was so – it brought a level of calm to her turbulent soul, and in its own right was soothing. Strange how such an effect could have on another. She turned her gaze away, her hand reaching out at that point to drag the bag closer and within reach. Close now, soon.
”I would… like to share,” Fallon spoke after a chime or so of thought, ”It’s just… a daunting task. There isn’t too much to tell.” Eyes turned distant, the thoughts of simpler times playing within her mind, ”I remember… not being in Syliras that long. First spring maybe? I can’t remember exactly. Either way, I didn’t get on with the other children. Said I was wild. A witch,” she gave a mocking wriggle of fingers at that point, an element of humour creeping into her voice, ”Either way, little darlings as they were, they decided to set up a new game called hunt the witch. I… was the target. I got good at running away in my youth because of that. Either way, when looking for an escape in the bazaar, I dived underneath a table he was at insistent that the ‘witch hunters’ would get me. He rather fabulously dealt with them that day, and promptly sent them on their way. Also made me promise that if they ever bothered me again that I was allowed to run and hide behind him,” She gave a glance up to Zandelia at that point, ”It took thirteen attempts for him to realise this was a problem, and another eleven to take custody of me from that orphanage. Never bothered after that.”
“Training was… well training,” she scratched at her jaw at that point, ”He… used to make things into a game. Of course, there was some of the more theoretical aspects taught first. A year at least of bringing me to a level of understanding that was suitable for initiation. It was hard work for him I imagine, but, he managed to pull it off. Play was a bit of an alien concept to me I remember, but, he managed to work his way around that,” Fallon shrugged, ”Things became games, what could I do with the glass ball was one. Other times, it was more of a paired thing, understanding how it worked from a practical aspect. Dice control, dealing and holding of cards, even writing with it. You had to think differently from before, more so as it was hard to see exactly where it was – sure, sensing is one thing. But knowing? It was hard to judge.” She pursed her lips, ”As I got older however… he grew a bit more distant. I had to do a lot more self-practice. But, that was fine, he was busy doing his research, and I was the assistant.”
There was a long pause after that, followed by the shaking of the head. She did not know what she would have said to him in honesty. She remembered those final moments, the cold grasp and the firm orders. The scream, the pain, of things she desperately wanted to say but never did. She felt the loose hold, a slight cocoon almost to protect her from the world. It was a hard task, one that was filled with that pang of guilt. But there Zandelia was, playing as witness to what was to be said, ”I… would…” She frowned, a deep inhale and puffing up of the chest, ”I would… tell him so much. I… don’t go, I need you here right now,” there was a tighter grasp upon the woman’s fingers as she said that.
”I would… tell him… Sorry. Sorry that I couldn’t help him more. That I could save him and ran away like a coward.” A pang of regret rested in her voice then, head tilting forward, ”That, I’m sorry that I learned bravery and courage far too late. I…” she pursed her lips, ”I would beg him of his advice if he was alive now. He was a smart man. Very smart. It was almost as if he could see the whole world for what it was and knew exactly what to do. And with a clap on the shoulder he would simply lean down and whisper,” she cleared her throat, tones dropping down slightly, the accent forced into an old remembered mimic. Although it still rolled like her own, there was still the element of quickness – chirpy almost – ”One day, My little, fiery, wolf, you’ll reach your hand out and grasp the world within them. For you are a bringer of change, and when you do bring it, no matter how big or small, it will be beautiful.” She shook her head, ”Never really understood what he meant by that until now. Funny how things just… click into place. He had faith in me, and thus… I must have faith in what he thought. So… I guess I would finally say thank you for giving me that chance.”
An element of peace came to her at that point, an inhale and a simple slump. Dragging the bag over properly she forced herself to sit up, and begun the steady opening of it, ”Right, enough of this. You have indulged me. And now… t’is time to indulge you and move onto the second thing I wanted to do today. Now,” Her hand shimmied into it, a grasp upon something that was obviously sturdy within. A small shuffle away, a pull as she threw the canvas bag off and presented the object to Zandelia. Lips broke into a grin, the leather binding of a case as she simply held it there for the woman to take, ”I know that you turned thirty something this Spring. But I don’t know what day. I also remember you threatening to make me dance to a certain instrument. I… just…” A blush, followed by a look away, ”Uh… here? Just… I... don't know.”
And with that, Fallon simply held the lute case to the woman.
