You will never be able to walk through life without stepping on a
couple of toes,
so you might just as well be yourself.
And if someone complains about their toes,
they're lucky to have had them trod on by a healer, ne?
Sylphiel opened her eyes.
What a nightmare..!
So vivid in every detail; hadn't it been for the impossibility of the entire thing she could almost have thought it to be true. No light filtered through the curtains; it must still be early in the morning. The glass of the window rattled quietly, she could hear the soughing of the wind in the trees outside. She rubbed her eyes and sat up. As she stood her toes touched something cold and she flinched. She stared down at the sword resting on the floor and suddenly she began to shiver.
Not a dream after all. A quick glance over at the bureau confirmed her suspicions; in a delicate glass jar filled with water rested the little glowing seedling she had received in the ruins of Sairaag. Evening, not morning deprived the room of light. Slowly she sank back onto the bed, staring emptily into the dusk as memory returned.
"Oh, Ceipheed..." she whispered to herself. She wished with all her heart she could erase all last night from her life, wished she could climb back into bed and hide under the covers. Did I really bring him back here with me?
"Oh, Ceipheed..." she whined again. What on earth had possessed her to do something that foolish? Yet, as she thought about it, there didn't seem to have been any other way.
I have to contact Lina somehow. She will know what to do, I'm sure of it. I shouldn't have to deal with this. Oh, Ceipheed...
She reluctantly got up again and dressed. She couldn't hide in her room all day like a wounded animal and let him skulk around her home as he pleased. Once again clenching the Bless Blade in a death grip she unlocked the door and descended the stairs.
The house was dark and quiet, no daylight, no fire lighting up the gloom. She jumped as the steps of the stairs creaked under her feet as always, expecting to be attacked out of the darkness at any time. Nothing happened, but her hands shook nervously. Rather than stumbling about in the dark she activated her little light spell, the soft glow reassuring. It felt good to have her magic recovered after her sleep.
Once again her worries had been in vain; as she entered the living room she found that he was still asleep. His face, so contorted with confusion and weariness last night, looked almost peaceful. On his chest rested a little ball of gray and green fur, and even from where she stood she could hear the sound of lazy purring. She blinked in surprise, the cat usually stayed far away from strangers. Taking a few steps closer, she hesitated, uncertain of what to do. She almost jumped out of her skin as he suddenly spoke.
"I really wish you would stop doing that. Having someone sneak up on you with a sword is certainly not a nice way to wake up."
He opened one eye, the emerald, almost human one, to give her a reproachful look. She automatically felt a pang of guilt, then immediately got angry at herself for it.
"All things considered, you can hardly blame me for being cautious around you, can you..?" she retorted. He seemed to consider this, then closed his eyes again and shrugged.
"Fair enough."
Before the silence could grow dangerous the cat decided to save the situation. It sat up and yawned, then stretched, seemingly made out of rubber, all across his chest. He opened his eyes again to give it a flat stare as it braced its font paws against his shoulder.
"Watch it where you put those claws, young lady." he berated the little animal. She just gave him a cool look and jumped down, walking towards the kitchen with her tail raised as an exclamation point. On her way past she rubbed affectionately against Sylphiel's legs, politely hinting she was hungry and demanded breakfast. Sylphiel looked down at the furry little creature, then sighed and gave up. The situation just seemed to become more absurd by the minute. Since she didn't know what else to do, she fell back on her natural talents of getting along with people. Getting Along was a major part of a Shrine Maidens role, and being the daughter of the town mayor had given her years of practice. Rule number one; if you don't know how to act, go for everyday things. Find the smallest common denominator and work from there. Right.
"Uhm. Are you hungry..?" she settled for.
He studied her, trying to determine what kind of answer she expected. An innocent enough question, but he had learned early on even innocent questions weren't always what they seemed.
"Yes..?" he ventured. The girl nodded and left, seemingly relieved to get an excuse for leaving the living room. Apparently the right answer, then.
He remained sitting wrapped in his blankets for a few moments after she left, simply cherishing their comfortable warmth. His mind felt refreshed, seemingly working more smoothly than ever. Whatever beneficial entity had revived him had apparently taken the process a little further and managed what Eris' machine hadn't yet been able to do. No rough gaps remained in his mind, the painfully jagged two memories had began melting together to form something whole. Thoughts flowed more easily, no longer mangled or cut to pieces. An amazing, almost overwhelming experience. Is this how real people think? Following a train of thought all the way, seeing the full effects of act and consequence? Astounding.
He stretched, his body still pretty stiff and sore, but definitely in much better shape than last night.
Only lack a bath now, then I can take on whatever intriguing mishaps Fate has in store for me this time...
He stood, wincing as he put his weight on his torn, blistered feet, but clenched his jaw and left the room to stand in the doorway to the kitchen, watching the blue-haired girl. Whatever it was she was doing to the poor innocent eggs in the bowl, she did it aggressively, with a near frenzy. Something must had alerted her to his presence, because she turned around to glare at him over her shoulder. Automatically he closed his eyes and bowed his head, a gesture often used to appease Eris. This girl seemed a lot more gentle than Eris, but her hostility towards him was painfully apparent, and he didn't want to risk angering her as long as he had no way of defending himself against her magic or that grim sword. No matter how refreshed he felt after all those hours of rest, the magic was still not responding. Like a hollow, echoing void within him, its absence felt distressing, as if he had lost an important part of himself.
Sylphiel frowned as she turned around to look at him, she didn't like the way he had sneaked up on her. Walking quietly like a cat; the cloth he still wore wrapped around his wounded feet muffled the sound of his steps. Again she got the feeling he was watching her through those closed eyes, concealing his own feelings behind thick dark lashes. She noticed if anything his hair was even more tangled after his sleep. The thought of letting him into the clean kitchen wearing those dirty clothes was downright affronting.
"Why don't you go take a bath while I finish breakfast?" she suggested, gesturing slightly with the egg-dripping beater. He nodded in agreement.
"Bathhouse is to the left if you take the back door. There are towels and everything there."
He turned to leave, but stopped as she spoke again.
"Hey, it's no use taking a bath if you're going to take those dirty clothes back on afterwards."
He shrugged awkwardly and tugged at his torn sleeves.
"It's all I have."
Of course it was. She scowled at herself. Yet another ridiculous problem. All she had to offer were some of her fathers old robes she had kept stored away in one of the closets in the attic, simply not able to bring herself to throw them away. But to dress her father's killer in his clothes? No. Absolutely not.
On the other hand, if she didn't, he'd walk around in her house wearing those loathsome musty rags...
The girl suddenly looked furious, and he retreated half a step back out in the hallway. It seemed no matter how careful he was he managed to make her angry. She slammed the bowl down on the counter and grabbed the Bless Blade, heading for the door. He hurriedly skipped out of the way as she passed by on her way towards the stairs. As she disappeared up the stairs he took a deep breath to calm his racing heart; for a second she had seemed about to attack out of the blue. He could hear her rummaging around somewhere above, then the stairs creaked again. She returned with an armful of carefully folded clothes. As she shoved them into his arms her face was frozen in a mask of fury - and something else; he thought he glimpsed tears glittering in her eyes. She turned around abruptly and returned to the kitchen without a word. He remained where he was for a moment, completely nonplused, then he quickly headed for the back door.
The story idea is mine, obviously, since I doubt anyone else has a weird enough mind to consider something like this. It was all based on a dream I had, actually. Amazing, now you know that too.
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...
This part of the story is dedicated to the Queen of Swords - and I do mean that as a compliment, even though my writing skills are as nothing compared to hers.
Thanks Queenie, for everything.
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