The tree bracing against the storm may live a long life,
but the leaf that allows itself to be swept away will see all of the world.
Sylphiel angrily wiped her eyes and went back to mercilessly beating the eggs. The cat plowed through the food on its plate, then went over to the girl and rubbed against her legs with a soft purr. She bent down and picked it up, hugging it close.
"Poohti-chan... What on earth should I do?" she whispered into the silky fur.
"Do you think Father would be angry with me if he knew? But what else could I have done? I feel so lost..."
The cat purred reassuringly and reached up to kiss the girl's nose. She couldn't help but smile at the little creature. Content that she had managed to cheer her human friend up, the cat wriggled herself loose and jumped down to go investigate the remains of her food some more. Sylphiel sighed and went back to her pancake batter. Preparing breakfast at this time of day felt strange, but it was probably the least strange thing about the events of the last few days.
Just as she had finished her stack of pancakes and had warmed water for tea she heard the back door open with a slam and a muffled voice muttering something under its breath. If the tone of voice was anything to judge by she was probably just as happy she couldn't make out any words over the howling of the wind. A glance through the window at the swaying branches of the oak trees told her it was blowing hard, a few forlorn snowflakes dancing madly in the gale. The owner of the voice finally managed to get the door shut and a few moments later her guest entered the kitchen. She couldn't help but gasp as the sight of him brought back memories. Tall and proud, head held high, with lavender hair softly fanning away from flawless ivory features... The shadow of a smile playing over his lips - he looked just like he had when she saw him for the first time in Sairaag.
However, a closer look rather abruptly ruined the impressive drama; her father's robes were quite a bit too small for him and ended just a few inches below his knees, clearly showing off the fluffy white pieces of cloth he wore wrapped around his feet in clumsy makeshift slippers. The sight was so ridiculous after the previous tension she had to force down a giggle. Fully agreeing with her he just nodded resignedly and made a self-conscious gesture.
"At least they're whole and clean, ne..?"
She nodded, her reluctant smile a welcome release from the tension that hung so heavily over the house.
She gestured at a chair while finishing the tea. He sat down and studied the food dubiously, as if it had been an alien life form haunting the table. Sylphiel brought the teapot over and sat down across the table from him. She dutifully filled their cups, then just sat silent, balancing the cumbersome sword over her knees, not knowing what to say. He seemed just as uncomfortable, slowly sipping his tea to have something to occupy his hands. She sighed nervously to break the silence, then gave up and attacked the pancakes. Studying her as she served herself a stack of the things he hesitated, then poked one of the remaining ones with his fork, cautiously as if he expected it to jump up and bite him. Sylphiel noticed and frowned.
"They're not poisoned, I assure you," she said pointedly and took a bite as if to prove her point. He looked up, giving her that closed-eyed glance yet again.
"Oh, I didn't think that they... I just..."
He trailed off, then hesitantly pierced one of the pancakes and placed it on his plate. As he went about trying to kill and cut it up she studied him, sipping her tea. She put the teacup down with a soft clatter.
"Why do you always do that?" she asked, stirring the liquid with her teaspoon. He looked up again, a questioning look on his face.
"Do what?"
She kept stirring her tea, the muffled clinking of the spoon against delicate china and the wailing of the wind outside the only sounds to be heard.
"Close you eyes whenever you talk to me."
He looked surprised, then shrugged indifferently.
"Force of habit, I suppose. Eris wouldn't let me keep my eyes open. She thought them freakish. Said that I didn't look enough like her beloved Rezo-sama with them open."
Sylphiel frowned, that someone would deprive a person of his sight for such a ridiculous reason seemed unbelievable. Still, when she thought back she remembered he hadn't opened his eyes until after he had turned on his creator and struck her down. Up to that point they had all assumed he was blind like the man in whose image he was created.
"Well, I am not Eris. And I like to be able to look a person in the eye when I'm talking to them," she stated determinedly. He slowly opened his eyes and looked at her, then inclined his head.
"As you wish."
She sighed and picked up her teacup again. He went back to vigorously shredding his poor pancake, then warily nibbled at the piece he had managed to catch on his fork. Apparently finding it edible he finished the rest of it and helped himself to another serving.
So, here I sit having breakfast, or rather supper I guess, with the man who destroyed Sairaag. Who would ever have thought this? I certainly wouldn't. Ceipheed, this all seems so unreal.
They both jumped as a loud crash shattered the silence. Sylphiel instinctively grabbed the sword and was rewarded with a reproachful glance from the copy's direction.
"It was outside," he pointed out tonelessly. She relaxed somewhat, feeling pretty ridiculous. A closer look through the window told her one of the ancient oaks hadn't survived the onslaught of the storm but had fallen to the ground in a tangle of branches and roots. The air was filled with swirling snowflakes now, the furious gale sending them spinning insanely through the night.
A cold hand gripped her heart as she realized she wouldn't be able to get to the nearest village to send off her letter to Lina as long as the weather was this bad. She was locked inside with him as effectively as if someone had nailed the doors and windows shut. Outside the wind howled dementedly like a pack of ravenous wolves, and it kept growing stronger all the time.
"Can I ask you a question..?"
She started and looked up at him, abruptly jerked from her thoughts.
"What?"
His fingers played absently with the empty teacup, then he looked up to meet her gaze.
"What is your name?"
She blinked in surprise. Of course, all things considered, it wasn't all that strange he didn't know her name; it wasn't as if they had ever been properly introduced. Just because she knew who he was didn't mean he would automatically know everything about her in return.
"Sylphiel nels Rada."
He tilted his head and scrutinized her with those peculiar eyes of his, softly repeating her name as if to attach the sound of it to the image of her face. Then he simply nodded and went back to playing with his teacup. She studied him through the corner of her eye, then sighed.
Now what do I do? I wish Lina was... no. Lina is not here, and as long as it keeps storming like this I won't able to contact her either. I have to deal with this myself. Somehow.
Sylphiel sighed again, then abruptly pushed back her chair and stood. Forcing her hands to be steady, she began collecting plates and silverware with her free hand, the other still defiantly holding on to the huge sword. He just sat silent, surrendered his empty teacup when she reached for it, but never looked up. She stacked the dishes in the sink, but decided they would have to wait. Doing dishes with the Bless Blade in one hand just wouldn't work, and she certainly didn't intend to let go of it as long he was that close. She remembered well how fast and agile his attacks had been when they had fought him all those years ago; if she let her guard down he could kill her within a fraction of a second.
He watched the blue-haired girl from under dark lashes. Sylphiel. That was her name. She hadn't asked for his in return; perhaps just as well. What to answer? It wasn't as if he really had one.
He remained sitting in his chair, studying her as she fussed about in the kitchen. She hadn't given him any hints of what she wanted him to do, and considering how tense she looked, startling her with a sudden movement was probably not a good idea. In many ways she was different from Eris. Rather than ordering him about she seemed to expect him to make his own decisions, and then judge him after those. It meant more freedom, but also greater risk. A delicate balance, and all pretty confusing. Things had been so much easier when he had known he could just annihilate anyone who disagreed with him; now he would have to try to grasp those intricate little games humans seemed to play all the time; follow those confusing unspoken rules that seemed to change just as he seemed about to understand them.
He could see her glance in his direction through the corner of her eye, warily watching him as if she expected him to jump up and attack her. She was obviously afraid of him; why he couldn't quite understand. She held all advantages, she had no reason worry.
She grabbed a damp rag and wiped the table, dutifully splashed some water over the dishes in the sink, then tried to think of something else to do. As long as she could keep herself occupied with little everyday things it didn't seem so bad. However, the inconsiderate kitchen let her down; it was spotless except for those silently accusing dishes in the sink. She knew if she left them for too long it'd be difficult to get them really clean. Of course, there was a rather obvious solution to her problem...
"You know, when you're staying with someone it's common curtsey to help with these things."
He looked up and blinked. Now there was an order in disguise if ever he'd heard one.
"What do you want me to do?"
She gestured at the dishes in the sink with her free hand.
"You could do the dishes while I go start up a fire. It's getting a bit cold in here."
Do dishes?
He gave her a dubious look, then slowly stood and walked over to the sink. Skepticism was written all over his face as he studied the china and silverware there. Do dishes. Right.
"Uhm. How?"
Barely believing what she'd heard her own mouth say, Sylphiel dug out a dish-washing brush and placed it on the counter next to the sink.
"Warm water in the sink, put some soap in it, scrub with the brush, then rinse in some cold water and put on the counter. Should you finish before I get back there are towels in that cupboard over there."
As if ordering a man powerful enough to destroy a city in an instant to do her dishes was the most natural thing in the world she left the kitchen, catching a glimpse of him hesitantly arming himself with the brush just as she left. As she knelt in front of the fireplace she couldn't help but grinning over the utter absurdity of the whole situation.
Eris had me practice my magic and study powerful spells. This girl orders me to do the dishes. I don't know whether to be insulted or relieved.
He managed to get sink filled with hot water then grabbed the nearest plate. The soap made it slippery and he almost dropped it, just barely managing to catch it before it hit the floor. Not a good start. She would probably get very upset if he broke anything. With great care he proceeded to scrub the plate vehemently until it was really clean. Even of doing dishes couldn't really be compared to mastering magic, the situation was about the same; he'd been given an order and he'd better do a good job. The stack of dirty dishes steadily shrank and the dripping pile of clean plates and cutlery grew as he bore down it with full concentration. Outside the ancient oaks danced as their branches were mercilessly whipped by the storm.
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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