Sometimes your greatest mistakes can be forgiven,
but the smallest condemned most mercilessly.
They both stood perfectly still, frozen in time, the sound of shattering crystal still echoing in their ears.
He felt his heartbeat slow to a painful dull throb, a bitter taste in his mouth. The girl didn't move, just stood there, her hand reaching into empty air and her eyes open wide. Then, the spell broken, she slowly sank to her knees, a moan of utter despair escaping her lips.
"No..." she murmured, a trembling hand reaching out towards the sharp crystal splinters as if willing them to jump back together. They suddenly seemed blurry, her eyes stinging as tears overwhelmed her. So much more then a pretty trinket lay broken on that floor; shattered with it her most rare and precious memories. The hatred quieted by her dreams suddenly flared ablaze again and she hissed between clenched teeth.
"How much more of my life are you going to destroy!? I should have known better than to bring you here. It would have been better if you had been left to die in those ruins. Foolish, foolish..."
Her voice broke into sobs and she bent her head, her fingers still stroking the shattered pieces pleadingly.
He stared down at her, down at the lifeless splinters spilled across the floor. All that beauty, shattered and ravaged by his hand. He felt hollow; alarm and something else aching like a cold void inside him. Guilt? Remorse? This had not been supposed to happen.
"It was an accident. I didn't mean..."
He trailed off, his hand making a helpless gesture. She looked up, her face distorted by rare fury.
"I told you not to touch anything in here!"
That was true, of course. He shouldn't have touched the figurine in the first place. Now she was angry again, this time for good reasons. He had known his situation was precarious, yet he had ignored one of her few direct orders. A damn foolish thing to do.
She looked down at the sad remains of the unicorn again, her eyes hidden by her bangs, her hand still clenching the hilt of the sword.
"Get out of my house."
Her voice was muffled and quiet, grimly emotionless. He blinked.
"What?"
His mind somehow seemed reluctant to accept what his ears had told him. She looked up again, a young girl with tearstains on her cheeks, yet there was something dangerous flashing in her eye. Her eyes narrowed and she climbed to her feet, bringing the sword up between them. He automatically retreated a step, that awful feeling of dread rushing through him.
"Get out of my house!" she repeated, anger and hate glittering in those unforgiving green eyes. Outside the storm wailed loudly, bearing down on the house with full strength.
"Then I will die," he whispered. She made an exasperated gesture with the hand holding the sword; the sound the edge made when slashing through the air sent shivers down his spine.
"That's the point!" she yelled, her voice near breaking.
"Why should you be allowed to live, when my father..."
She broke off, tears streaming down her face. She shook her head vehemently, as if denying all the pain and grief would somehow make it go away. Then a heartrending sob escaped her and she turned around and fled the room, leaving him all alone.
He looked after her as she left, his mind spinning. The very same storm that had offered him calm the same morning had become a cruel living creature, howling in hunger, thirsting for his blood. It was painfully obvious he would not survive many hours in that onslaught if she really did force him to leave.
He knelt on the floor, carefully gathering all the crystal pieces in his hand, futilely wishing he could make them whole again. Of course his powers wouldn't respond, there was no way out there. With a sigh he stood and put the sad splinters back on the shelf where the unicorn had stood.
Nothing to do now but wait.
He paced the room restlessly, the rattling sound of the quivering windows grating against tense nerves until he wanted to scream. Finally he dropped into the couch again, resting his head in his hands.
What a mistake. What a stupid, pitiful mistake.
He jumped in shock as something suddenly landed beside him on the couch, then relaxed as he realized it was the little cat. It looked up at him with a questioning face, as if asking what on earth could be more important than giving it breakfast. He sighed and let his hand stroke absently over soft fur.
"What a mess..." he mumbled to himself. The cat watched him for a little while longer, then cuddled up close to him. Its presence was strangely comforting, its affection a rare gift to be truly treasured.
Time passed, the house completely quiet save for the muffled roar of the storm. Every minute passing by made him more and more restless. With the uncertainty and confusion came back the old jagged mind; a multitude of conflicting thoughts spinning together in a dizzying maelstrom. A part of him only wanted it all over with, an end to the tormenting waiting, another seemed paralyzed by fear. Perhaps it would be best to leave now to not anger her any further - but on the other hand the situation could hardly get much worse. The same part of him that had made him strike down his creator suggested attack, grasping the small chance of taking the blue-haired girl by enough surprise to kill her before she could carry out her threat. Somehow that thought was strangely repellent, it just seemed wrong. He frowned; it would seem whatever powers had began patching his mind together had also burdened him with something suspiciously similar to a conscience. How inconvenient.
Then again, even if he did kill her, someone was bound to come looking for her sooner or later. He knew she was a friend of Lina Inverse's; trying to explain to the red-haired sorceress why her friend was dead would be pretty tricky, and probably end rather fatally.
He sighed and shook his head. The situation seemed positively hopeless.
It simply wasn't fair! He had been torn from the darkness of death to once again live in this world, surely there had to be something more to it! To freeze to death in a blizzard only a few days after being reborn just seemed insane; what was the point of coming back in the first place? Only to endure some more pain and fear before being sent back into the eternal darkness?
Perhaps his rebirth had just been a side effect of the return of Flagoon. His chaotic mind calmed and focused upon that thought. It didn't seem too unlikely; he had been connected to the mighty spirit, guarding its legacy in skeletal fingers for several years. It would have needed someone to bring it to the surface. That all made sense. However it also meant his purpose had now been played out, rendering him a worthless pawn, no longer significant enough to care about.
He sat slumped in the couch, empty eyes staring through the windows into the blizzard - or something beyond, one hand mechanically stroking the cat's silky fur. An eternity seemed to have passed as he heard the stairs creak behind him. He didn't turn around. Her steps were slow and quiet as she walked through the room to stand in front of him; still he didn't look up.
"I told you to leave."
Her voice wasn't angry or demanding; deprived of emotion it was simply making a statement. His only reaction was to close his eyes and nod once.
"Yes."
"So why are you still here?"
He opened his eyes again and looked up at her. Her face was swollen from tears, and now she seemed emptied, as if there was not enough emotion left in her to feel anything anymore. She held the ever-present sword in her hand, but it hung limply by her side, as if not even that mattered anymore. With desperate hope battling lifeless resignation inside he tried to think of something to say.
"It was an accident. It won't happen again."
"No. It will not," she agreed. He inwardly cursed his choice of words, then decided to try another tactic.
"You can use a simple spell to put it back together again. Is a broken trinket really enough reason to condemn someone to death?"
She had seemed a compassionate enough girl, hopefully she would agree. However, if anything her expression turned even colder.
"I can make it whole again, but it will still have been broken. This isn't about a simple trinket. After everything you have done, do you really consider yourself worthy of yet another chance..?"
He looked confused, having a feeling he was being judged for crimes he wasn't even aware of.
"What have I done?"
The tiniest spark of emotion flared in her eyes, contrasting against her impassive expression.
"Sairaag was my home. You destroyed it before my eyes that night two and a half years ago. My friends and my father died in that hellfire."
He just stared up at her in shock, the last spark of hope dying a painful death inside him.
No wonder she hated him.
That she had delivered him from the cold winter night, brought him into her own home, even shown him hesitant kindness seemed unbelievable faced with that disclosure. Oblivious fool that he was, he had then gone out of his way to turn that fragile compassion into an even bitterer enmity. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't think of anything to say.
She looked down at him, the sword in her hand so very heavy. She felt empty. The last few days had been one long battle of raging emotions; after this last explosion all feelings seemed to have evaporated.
It was obvious he hadn't known anything about her coming from Sairaag or about her father's death. She could see how the last shred of hope died in his eyes at her words; he expected no mercy from her now. Mustering his last vestiges of defiance he met her eyes once more.
"I paid for those mistakes with my life once already."
His voice was very quiet, strangely lifeless, as if the awaiting death in the storm was already reaching out for his soul. There was no solicitation in his vanquished posture; he was no longer pleading her to spare his life, only asking for her understanding, affirmation. Just like that time when he lay dying beneath the Holy Tree all those years ago...
She felt weary, completely drained. As she looked down at him she no longer saw the insane beast, the half-human monster who had destroyed her life; only a defeated man expecting nothing from her but death. How utterly ironic that someone should look upon her, known to most people as the very incarnation of gentleness, with such dread. She realized then, with absentminded surprise, that her hatred had disappeared with the other feelings. She could no longer bring herself to fully hate him, only pity him. She studied him a moment longer, then made her decision.
The quotes are from Oshiro-sama's Letters to a Red Priest (in other words, I made 'em up) and can't be used without my permission. If you ask nicely and give me credit you'll most likely get my permission, but anyways...
As if anyone ever reads this anyway...
This time I'd like to thank all of you readers who has encouraged me to write more of this story. Without you it wouldn't have existed. I don't know if this would be a bad thing...
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