*Biara sleeps on the
straw bed she and Alanth had been given, her face peaceful for a rare
moment in the past few days. Beside her on the bed lies her journal, the
open book's next page completed in her flowing script.*
It has been several days now, and I think I am coming to terms with the fact that they are gone. I still feel the ache in my chest, the longing to go back and make things right, and these feelings will likely be with me for the rest of my life. Even so, I have not cried much today, and I've managed to put on a brave front at least when other people are watching me.
I have made several mistakes already which make me feel foolish, like I am once again a young apprentice just learning her craft. Alanth is trying his best to keep me safe, but I fear that I am more a handful for him than he anticipated. I wonder now if he doesn't regret his decision to save my life given the difficulties I've already caused.
The Sin'dorei is my savoir. He physically rescued me from death, whisking me away at the final possible moment and ensuring that I lived to get to safety. He saved my life both physically and emotionally, patching up my wounds and then convincing me, no FORCING me to live on. It was he that made me get up and walk, despite the agony in my body and in my mind. It was he that gave me purpose to move forward, even if it is unclear what the future holds.
So why can I not do the same for him?
The elf is a mystery, a blank slate that provides no clue as to what lies beneath the surface. Except for a few carefully guarded moments on the first day of our stay here he has given away nothing of the turmoil that goes on within him. It makes my heart ache to know what he must be feeling, and what he must be trying not to allow himself to feel. To think that he is facing that alone within him.
The tension builds around us, even as we sit here waiting for the right moment to make our dash to freedom. Just today I looked out of the windows of the orphanage and saw some of House Dawnsea's guards strolling down the street. They looked casual, but I know that my mother has deployed them throughout the city, hunting for me, for him.
I have tried to take my mind off of this by playing with the orphans here. They ply me with questions, show me their toys, and generally wish only to laugh and live their lives in happiness. To see them makes my sorrow grow, knowing that my own daughter would have lived amongst them and would still be alive if I had not adopted her into my home. Would living in these conditions have been so bad, given the alternative? I often must choke back my sobs, which the children would not understand. I have seen Alanth looking at me several times during these moments....he knows, I know that he knows.
So what do I know of him then? The tension must be getting to him as it is to me. I see him sitting, sharpening his swords and daggers, his gaze distant. The fear must be there, behind his stare as it is in me. We are hunted after all, we are marked for death. And yet he gives away nothing of this, as if he had died but his body has yet to acknowledge the fact. I fear that he will do something foolish once we have gotten to safety, and it makes me dread leaving this place, even as the fear of being here increases.
What can I do to reach him? How can I penetrate the walls that this person has put around himself for years, even before he and I met one another? We are friends, but how deeply can that run if I cannot even break through to him. And yet, he saved my life when he had no need to do so and I had no expectation that he would ever take such a risk for me. I want so badly to help him, to relieve him of the agony I know he carries, agony that is my responsibility.
Every time I begin to speak or try to talk to him, his gaze meets mine and I feel my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth. What words can I give him? Should I say, "I'm sorry that your beloved died because of my actions?" Should I tell him something that changes nothing, like "I wish I could have died in her place, and that you and she could have lived your lives out in peace?" The words would change nothing, and so my tongue freezes in place.
I wish to all the Titans that I had a tool, a means to reach out and break through that barrier, even if only for a moment. Just so he would know that someone, anyone cares if he lives or dies. I have nothing now, nothing but the few friends who have managed to survive this disaster, and I will not lose a single one of them if I can help it.
I will find a way. There must be a way. I will not let him go into that darkness alone when it is I who conjured it in the first place. If need be, I will follow him into it, so that he has a hand to hold in those last moments. It is the least I can do for someone whom I have wronged so very much.
It has been several days now, and I think I am coming to terms with the fact that they are gone. I still feel the ache in my chest, the longing to go back and make things right, and these feelings will likely be with me for the rest of my life. Even so, I have not cried much today, and I've managed to put on a brave front at least when other people are watching me.
I have made several mistakes already which make me feel foolish, like I am once again a young apprentice just learning her craft. Alanth is trying his best to keep me safe, but I fear that I am more a handful for him than he anticipated. I wonder now if he doesn't regret his decision to save my life given the difficulties I've already caused.
The Sin'dorei is my savoir. He physically rescued me from death, whisking me away at the final possible moment and ensuring that I lived to get to safety. He saved my life both physically and emotionally, patching up my wounds and then convincing me, no FORCING me to live on. It was he that made me get up and walk, despite the agony in my body and in my mind. It was he that gave me purpose to move forward, even if it is unclear what the future holds.
So why can I not do the same for him?
The elf is a mystery, a blank slate that provides no clue as to what lies beneath the surface. Except for a few carefully guarded moments on the first day of our stay here he has given away nothing of the turmoil that goes on within him. It makes my heart ache to know what he must be feeling, and what he must be trying not to allow himself to feel. To think that he is facing that alone within him.
The tension builds around us, even as we sit here waiting for the right moment to make our dash to freedom. Just today I looked out of the windows of the orphanage and saw some of House Dawnsea's guards strolling down the street. They looked casual, but I know that my mother has deployed them throughout the city, hunting for me, for him.
I have tried to take my mind off of this by playing with the orphans here. They ply me with questions, show me their toys, and generally wish only to laugh and live their lives in happiness. To see them makes my sorrow grow, knowing that my own daughter would have lived amongst them and would still be alive if I had not adopted her into my home. Would living in these conditions have been so bad, given the alternative? I often must choke back my sobs, which the children would not understand. I have seen Alanth looking at me several times during these moments....he knows, I know that he knows.
So what do I know of him then? The tension must be getting to him as it is to me. I see him sitting, sharpening his swords and daggers, his gaze distant. The fear must be there, behind his stare as it is in me. We are hunted after all, we are marked for death. And yet he gives away nothing of this, as if he had died but his body has yet to acknowledge the fact. I fear that he will do something foolish once we have gotten to safety, and it makes me dread leaving this place, even as the fear of being here increases.
What can I do to reach him? How can I penetrate the walls that this person has put around himself for years, even before he and I met one another? We are friends, but how deeply can that run if I cannot even break through to him. And yet, he saved my life when he had no need to do so and I had no expectation that he would ever take such a risk for me. I want so badly to help him, to relieve him of the agony I know he carries, agony that is my responsibility.
Every time I begin to speak or try to talk to him, his gaze meets mine and I feel my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth. What words can I give him? Should I say, "I'm sorry that your beloved died because of my actions?" Should I tell him something that changes nothing, like "I wish I could have died in her place, and that you and she could have lived your lives out in peace?" The words would change nothing, and so my tongue freezes in place.
I wish to all the Titans that I had a tool, a means to reach out and break through that barrier, even if only for a moment. Just so he would know that someone, anyone cares if he lives or dies. I have nothing now, nothing but the few friends who have managed to survive this disaster, and I will not lose a single one of them if I can help it.
I will find a way. There must be a way. I will not let him go into that darkness alone when it is I who conjured it in the first place. If need be, I will follow him into it, so that he has a hand to hold in those last moments. It is the least I can do for someone whom I have wronged so very much.
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