Every sunrise is a new beginning.
Remember that, and make every day count.
The house was quiet, the world still asleep as he gave up and opened his eyes. The storm had grown even stronger during the night, several times jerking him from fitful sleep to panicky alertness with its roar. He sat up and rubbed weary eyes. As if the storm hadn't been bad enough, the short moments of sleep had been troubled with nightmares. He couldn't remember anything about them, but their shadow had left a cold, dismal feeling in his heart.
Maybe not all too strange, he mused detachedly. Dreams were reflections of memories after all. Considering most of the memories he possessed, any dream was probably bound to turn into a nightmare.
He sighed and pushed a few wild strands of purple hair out off his face; he was still tired, but too uneasy to try to get any more sleep. His feet felt strangely numb and heavy, and a quick glance in their direction gave him an explanation why. Snoozing soundly, the little cat lay cozily cuddled up on his feet. He couldn't help but grinning slightly at the shameless creature. As if somehow sensing his attention it opened a blue eye to give him a questioning look.
"I think if you keep neglecting your owner like this you will make her angry at both us," he informed it. The cat seemed to ponder this, then demonstratively closed its eye and went back to sleep. He shrugged.
"Just don't say I didn't warn you."
He was hungry, but certainly didn't intend to risk angering Sylphiel by looting her kitchen. A glass of water would do fine for now. With some care he managed to free his feet from under the creature, earning himself an accusing glare for it. Wrapping the blanket around himself he walked as quietly as could towards the kitchen. At least his feet didn't hurt anymore; the blisters and sores were healing along with the split nails and bruises on his fingers. In a few more days time there would be no visible traces left of the overwhelming events that had taken place that cold winter day in Sairaag.
The smooth wooden floor was chilly against his bare feet as he entered the kitchen. The kitchen window was facing east, letting in the first dim light of dawn. Having filled the cup she had given him, he walked over to the window to look outside. Sipping his water he watched the sunrise. It wasn't snowing as hard anymore, and he could make out the luminescent disc rise majestically above the horizon through the storm-whipped clouds.
The last few days had been quiet, an unspoken truce somewhat suppressing the tension from before. As long as the storm kept the house isolated and sealed there had been no point in discussing any final decisions, only take each day as it came. That had suited him fine; the thought of the unknown future was rather unpleasant. However, after a last violent effort it seemed the blizzard was finally waning. Today would probably be the last day of tempest, then decisions would be put off no more.
Through the tentative conversations of the past days he had learned a little more of the blue-haired girl. She was a very gentle and righteous young woman, although still very wary when it came to himself. Even though her outright hostility had quieted down to a cautious uneasiness, it was still there, the sword she carried with her a constant reminder. Then again, all things considered, the situation could have been a lot worse. When her disclosure had revealed the full width of his crimes towards her, he had been certain she would make him pay with his life - yet she had chosen not to. He couldn't quite grasp the meaning of such unexpected benevolence, but was grateful for it nevertheless. The very notion was strangely intriguing, an excellent example of those unanticipated decisions people seemed to make in absolute contradiction to the situations at hand. Simply studying the way she acted was fascinating, for the first time giving him a clue to how to people managed to solve problems and get along; as opposed to simply trying to annihilate any threat or obstacle like he had used to do.
Human behavior. A riddle indeed, but rather interesting.
He walked over to the sink to put his empty cup down, then returned to the window, the sunrise a display of light and color he was reluctant to miss. To simply be able to watch a sunrise with open eyes, knowing he would not be chastised for not keeping them closed, was an amazing experience. During the few days he had spent in the little cottage he had collected experiences worth more than all the gloomy years spent hidden away in Eris' laboratory. No matter what would happen when the storm was over, those new memories made him feel that his return from darkness, despite all the confusion and pain it had meant, had not been in vain. That thought was comforting, a small light to hold onto in the face of that great, intimidating unknown that was the future.
Sunlight filtered through the curtains when she woke up, unexpectedly pure and golden rather than gloomy and gray. She got up and walked over to the window, flinging the curtains apart to let the light into the room. Ominous clouds still chased each other across the sky, the trees were still moving restlessly in the gale, but rays of sun found their way through the clouds and the wind was unmistakably calmer now than before. Time to start thinking about the future, she mused. As the clouds swallowed the sun again, leaving the room dusky as ever before she turned away from the window and walked over to the bureau.
Gently stroking the contours of the little plant in its jar she couldn't fail to notice it had grown somewhat, small new leaves sprouting from the main stem. She smiled; soon it would be strong enough to be planted in the ruins of Sairaag, closing the circle of destruction and new hope, of life and death.
She frowned somewhat as she spotted the envelope resting next to the glass jar; her letter to Lina, still not sent away. For some reason she felt slightly reluctant to really dispatch it; the situation no longer seemed as desperate and dangerous as it had when she wrote the letter just a few days ago.
Then she shook her head, what else to do? It wasn't as if she wanted her strange guest to stay forever. She would send the letter to Lina, then it wouldn't be her problem anymore. And if Lina decided to be her usual explosive self, blasting off a Dragon Slave before asking any questions, then perhaps it was for the better. For some incomprehensible reason that thought left her feeling strangely guilty.
As the blue-haired girl finally opened her door and descended the stairs the sun was well above the horizon, already heading for the skies. They shared breakfast in silence, a silence tinged with uncertainty rather than thick tension. She seemed as aware as he that the storm was slowly ebbing out, that the time for final decisions was approaching fast. He studied her while sipping his tea, deciding she looked as uncomfortable as he felt, although undoubtedly for other reasons. The tea was the most savory tea she had served so far, apple with a hint of cinnamon, like nothing he had tasted before. Admittedly it might be his worries for the near future that sharpened his senses, but he savored the taste nevertheless.
Sylphiel nibbled on her food, listening to the sobbing of the slowly dying wind outside. Ever so often an unexpected blast of wind would make the windows rattle, making her jump. She caught herself pondering how empty the house would be once he was gone again and frowned angrily at herself. Had the long periods of loneliness made her that desperate for company, that she even appreciated his presence? She shook her head; certainly not. It was only her ever gentle nature playing tricks on her mind. It would be a relief to get rid of him, no longer having to drag the heavy sword with her, no longer having to keep her guard up all the time. She looked up to find him studying her face over the rim of his teacup and glared at him for it, only to feel guilty as he quickly averted his eyes.
Why did it all have to be so difficult?
Rays of afternoon sun made the room glow softly as she kneeled in front of the fireplace, raking out the cold ashes of last night's fire. Her hands performed the chore automatically, leaving her thoughts to fly free. She couldn't remember ever having felt quite so confused about anything. She hated him, unquestionably, for the unforgivable crimes he had committed. And yet, when he looked so subdued and lost she couldn't help but feel sorry for him. She shook her head as she remembered how she had cried silent tears of pity when he died, capable of compassion despite the pain he had caused her loved ones. It was easy enough to respect a fallen enemy; granting him a second chance was a completely different thing altogether. Nothing was simple anymore.
The little magic flame she placed on the thin splinters of wood in the fireplace quickly rooted and grew, and soon the fire was crackling invitingly, spreading warmth through the chilly room.
She could hear the familiar sound of china clattering in the sink and had to hold back a smile. At least he was good at doing the dishes, she thought. He seemed to appreciate the simple everyday chores she had assigned him as much as she did hers, grateful for the temporary relief from the tension, the chance to keep himself distracted from the bizarre situation.
Lost in thought she didn't hear him enter the room and approach her, and so she jumped up in shock as he suddenly spoke, instinctively flinging the sword up between them. Whatever he was about to say was forgotten as he stared down at the sword-point quivering a scant inch away from his chest. Very slowly he raised his hands in an appeasing gesture and took a step back, his eyes wandering from the sword to her face, an unspoken question flashing by in their depths. Ashamed over her unprovoked attack she quickly lowered the sword, her cheeks feeling rather hot.
"I'm sorry if I startled you. That was not my intention," he assured her, outwardly calm and collected but inwardly badly shaken. She shook her head and smiled nervously, her hands fumbling with the sword.
"No, no... It was my fault. I didn't hear you coming."
"Obviously," he noted with a somewhat feeble smile. When she remained silent he made an awkward gesture towards the kitchen.
"I finished the dishes."
"Oh. Okay. Good."
She frowned at herself; that had sounded downright stupid. She turned to throw another log of wood onto the fire, with a little more force than was really necessary.
The tension from before had returned with her outburst and he shifted uncomfortably. He let his eyes wander around the room, searching for something to draw her into conversation about, something to distract her. It had sometimes worked with Eris...
"Quite the collection of books you have here. Only white magic?"
She looked up, her face suddenly hard.
"They belonged to my father."
Oh, damn. Just his usual luck to stumble upon the one subject that could possibly make her angrier. Almost desperate now he scrutinized the rest of the bookshelves' content.
"The chessboard as well..?" he asked and indicated the board with its game frozen in time. To his immense relief she relaxed and turned to look at the chessboard, the perturbed look on her face changing into a little sentimental smile.
"No, this is mine. I used to play with all my friends when I was little..."
On a whim she reached out to dust it off, then looked up at him.
"Do you play..?"
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...
Who to thank this time..? Oh! I know! All the people actually taking a minute or two to write me emails about this story. Write me, and you'll be included in that category, too! Isn't that nice?
15 | Story Index | Fanfiction