Why is it that when we look back upon our lives,
memories of pain burn brightly
but memories of joy fade into the mists of oblivion?
"You're right. It's just a broken trinket. It shouldn't really matter that much."
She walked past him over to the little shelf upon which the crystal shards had been delicately placed. She raised her hand, reciting a spell under her breath, then let the spell-glow from her fingers collect the splinters into a dance of holy light. As the white magic surged through her she felt it comforting her, bringing back her calm and strength through the act of healing. The shards moved and glowed by the force engulfing them. Slowly they patched themselves together, forming again the perfect, unmarred shape of a dancing unicorn. The brilliant crystal reflected the last glow of her spell and turned it into sparkling rainbows.
He just stared after her as she walked past him, by now completely and utterly perplexed. Had she changed her mind yet again? He dared not quite hope so.
The surge of white magic through the room as the girl restored the crystal figurine was tangible as a ray of dazzling sun through dusky clouds. She remained standing still in front of the shelf for a moment after the spell died out, her head bowed, as if absorbing every last scrap of the pure magic. Then she put the figurine down and turned towards him again, her face serene and the tearstains gone. Apparently his eyes betrayed his confusion, because she smiled a sad little smile.
"You were right. It's not worth the price of a life. It's just a trinket, a thing that can be put back together."
He blinked as realization slowly dawned. Perhaps he was not about to die this day after all.
"You will let me stay..?"
His voice sounded incredulous and wary even to his own ears. The girl nodded, almost thoughtfully, as if she herself just realized what she had said.
"I guess that is what I'm saying, yes. At least for now."
He hadn't realized he had been holding his breath until her words made him sigh with relief. Through another unpredictable twist of fate he had been granted just a little more precious time.
Sylphiel studied the man before her, noticing the sincere relief in his eyes, how tense nervous hands suddenly relaxed. Such human behavior, such human feelings it gave away. It was difficult to imagine he was a created being; a clone - or chimera for all she knew. Strange, that.
She shook her head, there would be more time to ponder that later. Right now, find the smallest common denominator...
"Uhm. So. Are you hungry?"
Blackcurrant tea, with just the slightest hint of honey and cloves.
He held the warm cup in both hands, sipping his tea and studying the blue-haired girl across the table over the rim. She seemed relaxed now, although she still had the sword resting within reach on the chair beside hers. He understood some of what she felt; after all the previous tension an explosion had been bound to occur. With it over, several new paths had opened. No actual decisions had been made, but at least for the moment the tension had died away and left them both to their own thoughts.
He sipped his tea, appreciating the flavor. Taste, like his eyesight, was a sense that had been dormant until now. All his senses were bombarded with new impressions, things he wanted to analyze, figure out, savor. To achieve new sparkling memories to replace the old dark ones. The precious extra time he had been granted gave him a chance to do that, to make the time he had left worthwhile.
Sylphiel dumped a generous dose of honey in her tea and stirred it, thin ringlets of vapor rising from the cup, bringing the sweet smell of blackcurrant up towards her face. She felt more at peace then she could remember having felt for a long time. All pent-up anger and disappointment, all the old grief and bitterness had been vented in the all but explosive outburst before, and now she felt refreshed, a heavy burden lifted from her shoulders. She studied the man across the table as he thoughtfully sipped his tea, unaware of her attention. She had held his life in his hands, ready to sentence him to death, and yet she had chosen to forgive and forget. Hatred was not an emotion that came to her easily, and she found it difficult to cling onto for long. Besides, to perfectly honest he had been right. He had paid for his past mistakes with his very life, and since his return he hadn't done anything worthy of punishment - except for dropping the unicorn, and even she had to admit that had obviously been an accident.
Feeling her eyes on him he looked up from his tea, meeting her gaze for a second before looking away. Such strange eyes, she mused. One almost human, the other slit-pupilled and golden like a Mazoku's. Undeniably eerie and yet strangely intriguing, they reminded her of what he had said the day before.
"Why didn't Eris let you keep your eyes open? Only because she didn't think you looked enough like Rezo like that?"
He looked at her again, and nodded with an imperceptible shrug.
"Obviously. The illusion of having her beloved Rezo back was all that mattered to her. "
She frowned and sipped her tea as she considered that.
"But why would you obey her? Obviously you were powerful enough to resist her."
His lips stretched into a thin bitter sneer. Putting the teacup down on the table he looked into its depth as if searching an answer there.
"Hardly. She was my creator. I had no choice but to do as she wished, whether I wanted to or not."
"But you turned against her..."
He looked up with a mocking half-smile playing over his lips, contorting his face into an ugly mask.
"Unforgivable, wasn't it? Of all the things I may have done, that is the one I regret the least."
A few hours ago such a statement would have seen her overcome with anger and aversion, but now she was calm enough to detect something else behind the ruthless words.
"That isn't all there is to it, is it?"
He studied her for a while, then sighed and looked away again.
"No. I had my reasons to kill Eris. I think if you knew half the things I know about her, you would most likely agree that it's better she is dead."
She raised an eyebrow and gave him an expressive look. Catching her meaning he smiled a crooked grin.
"You have a point. I'm one to talk, am I?"
He sighed and shook his head.
"At least with Eris dead my crimes are my own, not committed through me with her pulling the strings."
She bit her lip with a frown and kept stirring her tea, even though the lump of honey had long since dissolved into the hot liquid.
"I still don't understand how she could control you. That awesome power..."
"Power has nothing to do with it. Raw power is useless unless you have a free mind to wield it."
She still looked perplexed, so he tried to explain another way.
"Do you remember how she used her mind-gems to control your blond swordsman in Rezo's lab? Your own friend tried to kill you all then. Do you really think he would have done that by his own free will?"
Her eyes went wide as she suddenly remembered that incident. His words hit deeper than he could possibly know; no one could better symbolize gentleness and innocence to her like the golden-haired swordsman. If even the pure-hearted Gourry had been made to obey the blood colored gem's command, forced to turn against those he loved, then it had to be powerful indeed.
"I think I understand," she conceded. For every answer she got, more questions appeared and added to her confusion. It would seem nothing had been as simple as she had first thought.
He studied the girl as she seemed to wrestle with the things he had just told her, her hand automatically moving the teaspoon around and around in her cup. He wasn't used to talking about these things; it wasn't as if anyone had bothered asking before. Yet the feeling was not entirely unpleasant. Talking about the bitterness and pain somehow gave it a name and a shape, something that could be defeated and forgotten. It helped dragging still reluctant memories into daylight, lessening the confusion in his mind.
Sylphiel looked up from her tea again, a slight frown marring her brow.
"Was it Eris who was behind the... Was it she that made you destroy Sairaag?"
He winced inwardly. She had to ask that question, of course. He might be able to convince the blue-haired girl Eris was the one to blame, but if she found out he was lying she would probably be even angrier than if he at least told the truth. He stared into his teacup, his lashes shielding his eyes from her gaze.
"No."
My crimes are my own, he had said, only a minute ago. Quite the truth, but a heavy burden to shoulder, and never more so than when responsibility for them was demanded. Why was it so difficult to meet her eyes while talking about this? Yet another side effect of that accursed new conscience? He certainly never asked for one. This feeling, suspiciously similar to guilt, was as unpleasant an emotion as the familiar bitterness, and its novelty did nothing to ease the discomfort.
Finally realizing she was still stirring the tea she placed the spoon on the table beside her teacup. She studied him, not failing to notice he had tensed again, as if bracing himself against a blow. Very quietly she asked the one question that had haunted her ever since that night over two years ago.
"Why?"
He remained silent for a long moment, his hands clenching and unclenching once. Then he looked up to meet her gaze, his mismatched eyes asking for understanding, yet not expecting any.
"I don't know."
When she remained silent he tried to elaborate, explain.
"It was just something that happened. No reason, nor meaning. I wanted to demonstrate my power, vent my frustration, let others feel a scrap of the pain I was suffering. That people would get hurt just didn't matter all that much; it was not important."
She broke the eye-contact and looked into her teacup again. She hadn't really expected a divine reason, but somehow the knowledge it had all been a mishap, the magic equivalent of striking a fist in the table gone out of control, made her feel even emptier. He remained still, silent, waiting for her to say something.
"Does it matter now?" she asked, looking up again. He frowned somewhat, trying to understand what she was playing at.
"What do you mean?"
"You said it didn't matter all that much that people got hurt. Does it matter now, or could such a thing happen again?"
He tilted his head and considered her words, forced to analyze his own choice of words closer.
"I don't know. I don't think so. I didn't really have a concept of death then, created being as I was. That changed rather abruptly thanks to you and Lina. If the people in Sairaag felt the same pain I did... No, it wouldn't happen again. At least not unless I had a good reason."
At least he was being honest, she thought sardonically.
"What reason could possibly be good enough?" she asked, rather acidly. He shrugged.
"Since my magic powers are gone the point is rather moot, don't you think? I don't know what reasons could be considered good enough, but if I told you nothing could ever make such a thing happen again I would be lying. And lies would hardly benefit my situation at the moment."
Sylphiel considered that and had to admit he had a point. Lina had used the Giga Slave against Hellmaster to save her friends, knowing full well it might mean the end of the world, yet none of them would have dreamed of condemning her for that.
She picked up her teacup to draw another sip and realized the tea had gone cold. Had they been talking for so long? Apparently. Even if the odd conversation had left her with even more questions, it had also given her a new understanding and a truthful, if somewhat warped explanation. Casting a simple little spell through her fingers she warmed the lukewarm tea somewhat then slowly drank it up while studying her visitor. All things considered, there was definitely more to him than first met the eye; he was an enigma, a twisted riddle in human shape she felt more and more urged to solve. Perhaps somewhere in that twisted tangle were the answers to the old questions she had pondered for so long, and the new, no less nettling ones raised along with his return.
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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