No matter how many people you seem to have around you,
you can still be alone.
Have you ever thought about that?
Clouds chased each other across the pale sky of spring, their flickering shadows dancing across the land below. The faint sunlight filtering through the window faded into darkness only to flash back in full strength again, cut to pieces by the shadows of the clouds.
He sat comfortably huddled up in the couch, a nice warm fire banishing the chill of early spring from the room, an open book resting across his knees. Some cajoling, innocent manipulating, and a seemingly casual comment every now and then had granted him access to Sylphiel's collection of books. They had proved a fascinating treasure of information and entertainment, about as different from Eris' tomes of darkest Black Magic as anything could be. He turned a page and forced himself to actually read the text instead of just closing his eyes and absorbing its meaning with a simple spell. It might be a slow and sometimes tedious way to read, but he had sworn he would master it. Besides, his magic was still weak; even the simple spell required to skim through the text of a page was wearying, making it difficult to concentrate. Beside him on the floor rested a pile of already analyzed books; a thin little book on simple white magic light-spells, a fauna with rather pitiful illustrations and a dusty old dictionary of the ancient dialects of the Atlas City area.
He pushed some hair out of his face as he leafed through a couple of pages in the book he held, reading with fierce concentration. The cat snoozing atop the back of couch ever so often draped its limp tail across the book and he had to pause in his reading to sweep it aside.
Sylphiel sat by the kitchen table, ever so carefully pouring small droplets of the contents of a black bottle into the clear liquid held by another small bottle on the table before her. Besides her impressive healing white magic powers she was well familiar with the pharmaceutical abilities of herbs and spices, her training as a Shrine Maiden as well as her natural talents granting her insight beyond that of most ordinary people. Those abilities had led to the people in the surrounding villages appointing her their unofficial formal healer, someone to turn to when in need of help and support. The last weeks' giddying events had distracted her from her usual calling, but as she began getting used to the new course of her life she had once again remembered those who counted on her for help. She had promised to visit her friend in Inaka, the nearest village, with more medicine for her ailing child as soon as possible, and she felt slightly guilty about having waited so long. Despite the clouds it was a beautiful day; she could make the trip today and still be back home before dark.
After her guest had discovered her small personal library she had gotten enough peace of mind to concentrate on her work again. Not that he'd intentionally disturbed her before, rather quite the opposite; watching him hang around with nothing to do, standing still and silently watching her with those closed eyes had made her uneasy and restless bordering on frantic. Letting him loose among her father's books had given her the slightest twinge of stubborn bad conscience, but she had fought it down. He wore her father's clothes, for Ceipheed's sake; if she could deal with that, then the books certainly wasn't anything to be upset about.
She thoughtfully bit her lip as she counted the 26th drop of deathrose honey splash into the bottle on the table, then put the black bottle down. Come to think of it, this was a good opportunity to get him some proper clothes once and for all, no longer getting painfully reminded of her father and who had killed him every time she entered a room. The woman she was about to visit had used to be a tailor in Sairaag; she could most likely be persuaded to help out with some clothes in return for the medicine for her son.
She shook the bottle vigorously to blend the contents, then put it back down on the table and stood. Hopefully no one in Inaka would ask too many questions...
"Cold?"
"Not really."
"Okay. Uhm. Good."
Despite the sunshine the day was cool, a chilly breeze rushing playfully through the new green grass of spring. In his too small clothes she would have thought him to have been shivering with cold after having walked for almost an hour, but either he didn't feel the brisk wind like she did, or he simply ignored it, not deigning to acknowledge its obtrusive shoves.
They walked silence for a while, the scraping of shoes against gravel the only sound to be heard. Having turned left instead of right on the road outside her oak grove they were heading away from Sairaag, the sun following them westwards high above their heads.
Despite the drifting clouds the sky looked strangely empty and she frowned, trying to detect what was missing. As it suddenly dawned on her she froze and stopped to stare at the sky in sheer shock. Unprepared he walked another two steps before he realized she had stopped and he turned to give her a questioning look.
"The Pillar of Light..!" she exclaimed, scanning the horizon for the celestial phenomenon.
"It's gone!"
Looking from her face to the sky she was scrutinizing, then back again he arched an eyebrow.
"The what?"
She tore her eyes from the sky to look at him, suddenly realizing he wouldn't know what she was talking about. Searching her memories of the last couple of weeks, she tried to determine when she had last seen the light at the horizon, but couldn't remember.
"After Lina killed Hellmaster a light appeared on the horizon. People simply called it the 'pillar of light'. No one knew what it meant, but last time I saw Lina, she and her friends said they were heading for the coast to go investigate it closer."
Though his impassive expression didn't change she detected dry humor in his voice as he spoke up.
"If Lina Inverse went to investigate it's not too strange it went away. She probably either stole it or blew it up "
She couldn't help but smiling; the same thought had briefly flashed by in her own mind. She started walking again, once again creasing her brow in thought.
"The blizzard some weeks back made it impossible to see the sky, and I haven't really been outdoors a whole lot since. I wish I could remember when I last saw it..."
He shrugged.
"I can't remember seeing any strange lights in the sky, and that first night in Sairaag was very clear."
She looked up at him, then nodded.
"You're right. It must have disappeared right before that. Maybe it was even connected to the return of Flagoon somehow."
That obviously sparked his interest and he looked down at her with a thoughtful expression.
"That might be the explanation to why Flagoon chose this particular time to return to the world. I have been wondering about that."
She nodded, pushing some hair out of her face, the mischievous wind immediately pushing it back.
"Me, too. I just wish I knew what it was all about."
He nodded in silent agreement as the road made a sharp turn to head down into a small valley between the low hills, a small village prospering in their arms, white smoke rising lazily from several chimneys into the pale sky. Then they entered a small grove of trees, and the valley disappeared out of sight.
"I wish I could contact Lina somehow. She might know more about it all."
He winced at that as they left the grove of trees to approach the village.
"I'm not sure I'm all that desperate to find out. Meeting Lina Inverse again right now would probably be very bad for my health."
She snorted and shook her head, having to admit he had a point.
"You may be right. I'm not sure I'd like to explain things to her either. At least not this soon."
"Never is too soon," he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear. With a resigned smile she silently agreed. Lina was a very intense person to be around, and right now her life was upside-down enough without the fiery sorceress adding to it all.
The smell of smoke and new-baked bread mingled with the sound of voices and the clang of a blacksmith's hammering to provide an easeful ambience, the feeling of other people moving, living all around. Most faces were very familiar to her and most people turned to greet her, then remained standing looking after her and her peculiar follower. He was obviously uneasy, uncomfortable with all the strangers' eyes following him, yet there was no mistaking to his curiosity. His mismatched, half-closed eyes were alert and scrutinized every building, every face, every detail in his surroundings from under shielding thick lashes, taking it all in with a child's enthusiasm.
Shattered memories of Rezo's rose like bubbles to the surface, memories of travelling villages like this one to offer healing, yet he had never experienced such a place himself. Never had he been in the company of so many people that had no preconceived notions whatsoever about him, and the concept was both intriguing and slightly frightening. It felt as if every action, every word would be recognized and judged, responsibility an unfamiliar and heavy cloak to shoulder.
Sylphiel moved purposefully through the main street, smiling and nodding at people every now and then, seemingly perfectly relaxed. This was her world, where she was at home and in control. He just followed silently in her wake, trusting that she knew where she was going.
He certainly didn't.
Brusquely shoved away by the wind the clouds had sullenly retreated and sunshine flowed down from a clear blue sky. She tilted her head back to let the light shine down on her face. She felt as if she was waking up from a long, confused dream. This was reality, where the sun shone and people were moving and talking all around. The fantastic events of Sairaag seemed so distant, almost unreal. Yet she couldn't ignore them, constantly reminded of all that had taken place by her own personal shadow following her in silence. She felt as if two worlds were colliding and she tried to adjust to the dizzying feeling. The people of the village were her friends, many of whom she had known since she was little, people like the ones that had died in Sairaag...
At the same time she had begun to understand the man in her company, let go of her antagonism towards him. And that was all fine, in the isolated world of her cottage. Here, among other people her reasoning suddenly seemed bizarre and she had to force down uncertainty. Many of these people came from Sairaag, or had had friends and family there.
If any of them had known who her companion really was, they wouldn't have been smiling, s he thought. And if they had known that, yet seen her by his side, then how they look upon her?
A traitor.
She glanced over her shoulder at him and forced herself to relax. Even though he seemed outwardly indifferent she could see he was tense, attracting the attention of so many people. Now if ever he needed her to be steadfast, surrounded as he was by people that could turn into a bloodthirsty, vindictive mob if they had known the truth. She knew his magic powers were still too feeble to be sufficient for any kind of attack; if the villagers should turn hostile he would be good and helpless. Once again she was reminded of how dependent on her he really was, despite his seemingly impressive physical strength and cool attitude. A wolf trying his very best to pass off as a sheep, walking through the herd, surrounded by sharp horns and skeptical eyes...
She headed towards a white house with dark brown framework and rustic blue gables. Given life by the early spring, hollyhocks framed the doorstep, their dusty pink buds already about to burst open. A sign with a stylized spool of thread and a needle crowned the doorway, swinging lazily in the breeze. Knocking politely she opened the door and entered, and he followed her into the small room beyond, leaving the people and their curious glances behind for a while.
"Misha? Are you here? It's me, Sylphiel..."
He remained standing still behind the blue-haired woman, studying his surroundings. Light shone through two large windows, making even the small space bright and cozy. A desk stood directly to the left of the door, the kind of desk that marked the distinct borderline between the one who sold and those who bought. Sheets of paper, quills and several tangles of different colored threads were whimsically spread across its surface.
Beyond a doorway covered by a dusty red curtain she heard the sound of footsteps approaching and turned around. Sweeping the curtain aside with a bold gesture a rather short blonde woman in her thirties made a grandiose entrance, then determinedly strode over to her visitors and threw her arms around Sylphiel's neck.
"Sylli-chan! How nice to see you! It's been ages since you visited, how's life? Did you bring more medicine for Poyke? You did? That's really sweet, you're such an angel, thank you! Now, you have to tell me, what have you been up to, it's been weeks since I last saw you; come in and sit down, why don't you! Oh, and who is your friend?"
Sylphiel could easily detect the moment Misha's attention shifted from her to the tall man behind her and realized too late she probably should have given him a word of warning. Oh, well...
With a downright predatory grin the small woman descended on him, grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously, seemingly able to go on talking forever without ever stopping to catch her breath.
"How nice to meet you, pleasure, about time Sylphiel found some more friends, she insists on staying all alone out in that cottage of hers. So, you would be her... Friend? Fiancé? Lover? Typical how the handsomest ones always get grabbed by someone else, ne? Just my luck. Anyways... Oh, I'm Misha, your name would be..?"
Completely taken aback by her assault he had desperately been trying to deliver his hand from her firm grasp, turning various shade of red during her speech, but her final question plunged the room into solid silence.
Sylphiel blinked, suddenly realizing she herself didn't know the answer to that question, not even after having spent several weeks in his company. Obviously he didn't either, because he shot her an all but desperate look before he managed to compose himself again, slide his mask back on.
People might recognize the name Eris had burdened him with, someone else's name; he'd be damned if he'd introduce himself as either 'Rezo' or 'copy'.
"Uhm. Greywers," he simply answered. Heck, it was better than nothing, and not a total lie...
The small blonde woman grinned up at him, a mischievous glint in her ocean-colored eyes.
"Only 'Greywers'?"
As he nodded her grin widened.
"A mysterious man, eh? How charming! Nothing like a touch of mystery to make a man attractive if you ask me, and one would think I'd know, ne Sylphiel? Oh, right, I asked you to come inside, didn't I? I keep getting distracted here, come inside by all means. Sylli-chan, do you think you could go and help Poyke with his medicine, poor kid's absolutely intolerable when he gets a cold like this, I'll take good care of your friend, don't worry."
The panicky look the copy gave her at those words was possibly as desperate as the one on his face when Lina had pierced him with the Bless Blade, Sylphiel decided. Barely able to keep a straight face she decided to take pity on him and she fished the little bottle of medicine out of her pocket and handed it to their hostess.
"I think it's better you give it to him yourself, Misha. Last time the little imp almost bit my fingers off."
The other woman smiled proudly as she accepted the bottle.
"His mother's son, that's what he is. Knows what he wants - and doesn't want! - that's for sure. Last week he yanked Furika's hair so hard I thought she'd never stop crying, poor girl. They're a fine pair of kids, but quite the handful at times! You two make yourselves comfortable and I'll be back in a flash."
As she left the room they both simultaneously sighed with relief, taking a deep breath. When in Misha's company one usually found oneself winded simply by listening to her, wondering if she ever ran out of breath.
"Next to Eris, that is possibly the most awful woman I have ever met," he commented into the silence. Sylphiel couldn't help but smiling slightly, sitting down in a chair by one of the walls.
"She's a very forward woman, that's true - and a notorious man-hunter. But she's got a heart of gold, really. She's not that bad once you get to know her better."
Shuddering with disgust he pushed a hand through his purple hair, like a cat grooming its fur after an unpleasant experience.
"I'm very certain I don't want to get to know her better."
She shrugged and slipped off her gloves, neatly folding them and putting them into her pocket.
"If you want to get some decent clothes of your own you'll have to stand her company for at least a couple of hours. Your call, of course."
He gave her a sulky glare, then turned away to look around the room. The ceiling was high, and dusty light filtered through a set of windows high up above the beams, making the room bright and spacey. Shelf after shelf along the walls was covered with bales of cloth in all possible colors, and on a table in a corner rested an impressive arsenal of spools of thread as well as hedgehog-like pincushions. On the wall beneath the stairs the blonde woman had walked up was a full-figure mirror and he sauntered over to it, giving his reflection a look of pure disdain.
"I look a fright," he muttered, pulling at his clothes in a futile attempt to make them fit better. She refrained from commenting, but her silence was expressive enough. After a final, irritated tug at his sleeves he turned away from the mirror and sighed.
"I guess I don't really have a choice."
She shrugged, gazing up along the rays of light to look at the windows.
"No one is forcing you. There are better things I can do with my money than getting you clothes you don't even want."
The words came out more acid than she had intended and the change in his attitude was immediate. Dropping his pretentious act he suddenly looked uncertain, subdued again.
"I didn't mean it like that..."
She shook her head in irritation at her own brusqueness.
"I know. Never mind."
He remained standing by the mirror, studying her in silence. Even though she wasn't trying to control him the way Eris had, she was the key to the untroubled life he lead for now; he didn't want to risk angering her and get himself back at square one. Sometimes she would encourage his independence and more relaxed attitude, but then sometimes she would snap at him like she just had, apparently annoyed. It was a difficult balance, and more than a little confusing, but then it probably wasn't too strange, all things considered. For two former mortal enemies to learn to get along, there had to be bumps along the road as they tried to figure each other out.
The door at the top of the stairs opened again and Misha exploded into the sullen silence, shattering it with her enormous personality, the kind of presence that easily filled an entire room.
"There, Poyke's finally asleep. It's a good thing you came Sylphiel, he was getting worse again. I can never thank you enough for helping us like this, you really are an angel."
Shaking off the previous uneasiness Sylphiel smiled at the other woman.
"I'm only glad to help. However, I was going to ask you if you could do me a favor..?"
Misha picked up a piece of cloth from the table and mechanically folded it and put it away.
"But of course, anything you want! Always glad to help, you know that."
Sylphiel nodded in the direction of her silent companion.
"He needs some new clothes. You think you can help?"
The blonde woman turned around and scrutinized the tall man with a calculating look.
"He certainly does, doesn't he? Are those Eruk-sama's old summer robes? Looks like it. What on earth possessed you to dress him up like that?"
As she talked she picked up a tape-measure and descended on her victim with a predatory gleam in her eye. Judging from the look on his face she could just as well have been the hangman approaching with the snare. Sylphiel smiled sadly.
"Yes, they belonged to my father. I know they don't fit too well, but it was all I had to offer at the time..."
"Taking in a naked man into your house? Why, Sylphiel, I never would have thought that about you."
It was difficult to decide which one of the tailor's visitors turned the brightest shade of red at that remark.
"He wasn't..! I mean, his old clothes were in awful condition. My father robes may be a bit too small, but at least they're better than torn rags."
Standing on the tip of her toes Misha simply nodded, not really listening as she tried to reach up to measure the width of the purple-haired man's shoulders. Finally she gave up and handed him the tape-measure and walked over to drag a stool out from under the table. Firmly placing it in front of him she picked the tape from his hand and climbed up, at last almost reaching him to the chin.
"There, much better. My, you're a tall one, aren't you? But then, so was Sylphiel's last romance as I recall; tall, blond sword-slinging fellow. You have a thing for tall men, don't you, Sylli-chan?"
She turned back to her cornered prey with the tape held in both hands and gave him a sly wink.
"Not that I blame her. You know what they say about tall men, eh?" she finished in a loud conspiratorial whisper and nudged him in the ribs. Unable to decide whether he should be fascinated or scared to death of the small woman in his face he could only shake his head, stunned.
"No? Well, frankly put, they're supposed to have really big tonkers. According to my rather extensive personal experience, it's usually true, too."
"Misha!" Sylphiel gasped from her corner, desperately trying to keep a disapproving appearance up, choking back laughter as she caught a glimpse of his shocked face.
"... Now hold on..." me managed to get out. The blonde woman looked up with arched eyebrows, then thoughtfully glanced downwards.
"Not true? Oh, well. We can't all be winners."
He opened his moth to speak, then closed it again, at a complete loss for words. Sylphiel fought a losing battle with laughter and had to pretend coughing behind her hands. Completely ignoring her customer's bewildered condition the small blonde woman continued her measuring of various body parts. From what Sylphiel saw of his face the tailor was obviously not good at keeping her fingers to herself.
"There, I think that's it," Misha stated through the needles she had pinched in the corner of her mouth, snipping off the last thread from his right sleeve. She took a step back to examine her work, and nodded to herself in satisfaction. Sylphiel had to agree; despite her whimsical, straight-forward attitude, the little woman was good at her work.
Somewhat stiff from having acted as a live mannequin for several hours he stretched and turned towards the mirror again. He tilted his head as he studied his mirror-image, pulled a little at the new clothes, then nodded. Much better, for certain.
Tight-fitting black pants covered his long legs, a soft, almost silky gray shirt bringing out the purple of his hair and his luminous eyes. No unwieldy robes, no shades of red as far as the eye could reach. Nothing like Rezo at all.
Good.
He slid a slim hand through his thick hair, preening like a cat. Sylphiel came up beside him and their eyes met through the mirror. She snorted and shook her head.
"Peacock."
He glanced at the mirror down his nose as he studied the fall of his dark cloak, adjusting the clasp somewhat.
"A man has to have some bad qualities," he replied loftily.
"Some..?" she replied sardonically, looking away from the mirror to his face. He shrugged but had the decency to at least look the slightest bit self-conscious. Misha approached him from the other side and automatically reached up to adjust his shirt the way she would with a clumsy child, as usual showing no concern whatsoever about personal space.
"Give your beau a break, Sylphiel. There's nothing wrong with appreciating beauty."
That made him turn away from the mirror faster than anything Sylphiel could have said, edging away from the small woman with a wary expression on his face.
"If you're going to stay in Inaka for a couple more hours I can probably get some more clothes together," Misha said as she followed her two visitors through the red curtain into the small room by the front door. Sylphiel nodded and pulled her gloves out of her pocket.
"Yes, I have a few more errands to run anyway. That would be really kind of you. How much do I owe you for this?"
The little woman shook her head and waved her hand airily.
"On the house. I'm just glad to be able to do anything in return for you helping Poyke this last winter. For a while there I thought he wouldn't make it."
"Are you sure?"
The short woman nodded, then her smile turned impish and she twirled a lock of honey-colored shoulder-length hair between her fingers.
"Absolutely. Besides, it's always nice to meet such a good-looking man - and have an excuse to feel him up!"
Her smile was perfectly shameless and she winked at Sylphiel. If the man waiting by the door had overheard her he didn't deign to comment. Her face turning curious Misha leaned forward.
"Where did you dig him up, anyway?"
Sylphiel winced.
You don't want to know just how accurate that choice of words was, Misha, she thought to herself.
Outwardly she managed a weak smile.
"Long story. We first met a couple of years ago, in Sairaag."
Misha nodded, her face solemn.
"Many bad memories there. I won't stir it up. But should you ever get tired of him, just send him my way, will you?"
Unable to hold back a grin at the mental images that conjured up, Sylphiel simply nodded.
"Of course."
Misha glanced over her friend's shoulder and sighed.
"If anyone deserves a nice man it's you, Sylphiel, but I must admit I am a tad bit jealous."
Sylphiel snorted, a bitter smile flashing across her lips.
"Trust me, you have no reason to be jealous. A polished outside can hide many dark secrets beneath."
Misha wrinkled her nose.
"Nonsense. I'm not just talking about a pretty face here, young lady. My dear departed husband, may-he-rest-in-peace, taught me a great deal about the darker sides of people. I'm a great judge of character. You've got yourself a good man there, if you just give him a chance."
Sylphiel just shook her head with a tired smile. It was no use ever trying to argue with Misha.
"I'll have to take your word for it."
The older woman nodded and walked over to the door, opening it to let in the sounds and smells of the village.
"You do that, Sylphiel. Well, it's been lovely seeing you as always, don't be a stranger! And you, too Mr. Mysterious Greywers, always nice with some new blood in town; I swear, some of the people here are so inbred their offspring will soon start sprouting extra ears...
Take good care of Sylphiel now! She's a good girl, if somewhat shy, but don't let that stop you. Now, you two don't do anything I wouldn't do - if you could possibly think of such a thing! Later!"
And with that she closed the door behind them.
The chilly wind had subsided and cool spring sunlight beamed softly down on the village. Roofs of red tiles or straw all but glowed in the warm light, a few lazy clouds drifting across the blue sky. He followed his blue-haired guide through the main street, noticing with relief people didn't stop and stare anymore. With his new clothes he could have been one of them, nothing any longer really telling him apart. Except for his unusual eyes, that is, and as long as no one came too close they probably wouldn't notice. It was a strange feeling moving among people as one of them, rather than either above or below them, he reflected.
Sylphiel stopped outside a house with thatched roof. The two opened halves of a large door faced the street, and a heavenly smell was drifting out between them. She turned to him with a thoughtful expression on her face.
"I don't know about you, but I'm getting hungry. Mr. Neriko makes delicious bread, and the best cinnamon rolls. How about we get some lunch?"
He nodded, the wonderful smell escaping the house determinedly grabbing him by the collar and bringing to his attention how hungry he was. She gestured at the two long tables with their rough benches that were placed on each side of the door.
"You just pick us somewhere to sit, and I'll be right back."
As she disappeared through the doorway he picked a seat by the table nearest the door, fastidiously brushing off the bench with the corner of his cloak before he sat.
It really was a nice day, the delicate rays of sun making the air pleasant and mild. He could feel the warmth of the sunlight radiating off the white rough-cast wall behind his back. He leaned back and crossed his legs, absently studying the people walking up and down the street.
Funny how things turned out, he mused. So many things had changed during such a short period of time. This life he lead now, with his blue-haired keeper, was so completely different from what he had known before. Just sitting outside in the broad daylight, feeling the warmth of the spring sun against his face and watching people passing by... It was very pleasant, he decided. And compared to the choking darkness of Eris' laboratory, her tomes of dark magic and impossibly high expectations, those shadows of the past reaching out to swallow him whole... Compared to that, this was probably as close to any kind of heaven a creature like himself could ever get.
At that point of his contemplation Sylphiel returned, carrying a small basket. A decidedly appetizing smell emanated from it as she put it on the table and picked a seat across the table from him. She pulled off her gloves and reached into the basket to dig out one of the items inside. It looked somewhat like a snail's shell sculpted of bread, sprinkled with sugar. She took a big bite and smiled.
"Help yerself," she said and waved the bun in the direction of the basket before taking another bite. Slightly wary as always he picked up one of the snail-like things for himself. The sugar coating was sticky, but it smelled really good.
"I've been thinking," she mused and swept some crumbs off the table. Still busy investigating this new species of food he glanced up and nodded.
"I realized before, when I told you the Pillar of Light was gone... Lots of things have happened that you don't know anything about, haven't they?"
Licking some sugar off his fingertips and deciding it tasted good enough he made a sardonic grimace.
"It is a little hard to keep yourself up to date when you're dead, yes."
She nodded with a distraught expression on her face.
"Right. Yes. Well, I thought maybe we ought to talk about it. I still don't really know why Flagoon returned, or why it brought you with it for that matter."
He shrugged.
"I guess even sage, ancient spirits do insane things on a whim sometimes," he said, the slightest hint of bitterness in his voice, then bit into his cinnamon roll as if to emphasize his point. She gave him a funny look as his face suddenly froze and his eyes went wide. Then a blissful smile spread across his previously so cool and indifferent face.
"What is this?" he asked, all serious questions from a few seconds before forgotten.
"What? The cinnamon roll?" she asked, having a nagging feeling she had lost the thread in the conversation somewhere.
"Cinnamon? Is that what makes it taste like this?"
She nodded hesitantly, looking rather nonplussed. He took another bite, looking as happy as a child.
"This is... delicious..."
She studied him as if wondering what Mr. Neriko had really put in the dough, then gave up and shrugged. Maybe she just wasn't supposed to ever understand him, she thought.
"Uhm. Anyways. About what I said before..."
"Mm-hm..?" he managed to agree, devouring the roll with fierce determination. She gave up and smiled resignedly, shaking her head.
"Well, about Flagoon's return, I think it may have been connected to the disappearance of the Pillar of Light, like I said before. It all comes together. It was Hellmaster who destroyed Flagoon. Then when Lina killed him, the Pillar of Light appeared. And when that disappeared, Flagoon returned. It sounds like it could all be connected somehow, doesn't it?"
Finishing the last piece of his roll he gave his empty hands a forlorn look and sighed, then looked up.
"Yes, it does. And Lina Inverse has been involved in just about everything about it, too."
"There's one more roll for each of us in the basket," she informed him and had to smile as he tried his very best to look uninterested and at the same time reaching for the basket.
"Yes, she has. I keep feeling things would probably make a lot more sense if I could get to talk to her."
He shrugged, slowly enjoying his second cinnamon roll.
"They might. Or not. Not everything has a meaning or a purpose. Sometimes things just happen."
Fishing her own second roll out of the basket so she wouldn't have to fight him over it she nodded thoughtfully.
"Maybe. I still think it's all connected. It's too neat to only be simple chance."
He nodded in agreement.
"True. Either way I can't see what to do about it. Lina Inverse is not here, so we can't really find out anyway."
No, she isn't, Sylphiel thought. But she could have been, had I dispatched my letter to her. I wonder what would have happened if I had. Things have really changed in this short time I've known him. I don't think I really want to get rid of him anymore. It's been a long time since I had someone to talk to...
"You've got cinnamon on your nose," she remarked detachedly.
She had been alone for so long, save for the people in the villages around her home. None of them knew anything about magic, only a few of them had ever been more than a few miles away from their homes. No matter what he was, and what he had done, she had a feeling he could actually understand what she was talking about. Not many people she had known had been able to do that. And there was no one else who really knew about Flagoon...
Some kind of understanding, whether she liked it or not. To her surprise she found the thought wasn't nearly as upsetting as she had thought it would be.
Maybe I've simply gotten used to him, she thought as she absently dug out a handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to him.
"So Hellmaster Phibrizzo borrowed Zelas Metallium's Priest and General and sent him to string Lina Inverse and her friends along, then killed his fellow Dark Lord - the Demon Dragon King Gaav - then turned the ruins of Sairaag into a shrine to himself, kidnapped Lina's boyfriend and finally got blasted from the face of earth by Lina, who was possessed by the Lord of Nightmares at the time..?"
"That's right."
"Okay. Can I have another cinnamon roll?"
She smacked at his fingers with her hankie.
"Is that all you have to say?"
He shrugged.
"What else is there to say? That I'm glad I never managed to persuade Lina to use the Giga Slave against me? Wouldn't have made much of a difference in the end."
She snorted and waved at Mr. Neriko to bring another roll.
"I don't think there would have been enough left of you for Flagoon to patch together had she used the Giga Slave."
He nodded and accepted the new roll from the baker's hand.
"Thank you. Well, that's true, of course. Next time I meet Lina I shall have to thank her for sticking a sword through my heart."
"Behave."
"Mm-hm."
"Anyway, that's probably as far as we're going to get as far as Flagoon is concerned. Do you know why it, you know... brought you back as well?"
Carefully licking every last shred of sugar and cinnamon from his fingers he frowned thoughtfully.
"At least to start with it probably needed someone to bring it to the surface. After that I'm not sure. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, as they say - or maybe someone will realize it was a mistake and take it back. It may have had something to do with the troll that attacked you, though. Perhaps Flagoon considered me a fit protector for you. Don't ask me why."
She had picked up a coil of her twilight hair and chewed thoughtfully on it, then realized what she was doing and spit it out.
"My protector? You?"
He shrugged and picked up a few crumbs from the table.
"Possibly. Or maybe not. I don't pretend to know Flagoon's mind."
She leaned her chin in her hand and her elbow on the table and studied him thoughtfully.
"You may be right," she finally conceded.
"I didn't think of it like that before, but it makes sense. It was Flagoon who lent you the power to cast that spell. I don't think it would have done that, unless... But it's still such a strange thought."
He nodded and folded his arms after having decided there was no more traces of cinnamon roll within reach.
"I agree. It's certainly as far as can be from any part I've played before. However, if it's what Flagoon demands in return for granting me life again..."
He trailed off, the subject too poignant to discuss. She noticed his hesitation and tilted her head to one side as she studied him.
"What's it like?"
He all but squirmed under her intense gaze.
"What's what like?"
She made an airy gesture.
"You know. Rebirth. Death. Is there anything... beyond?"
He turned away, his untroubled attitude gone and his voice short.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Is it that bad? Is there something like... Hell?"
He turned back and his mismatched eyes bore into hers, blazing like hellfire, and she suddenly wished she hadn't broached the subject.
"There is nothing. Nothing at all. Pain and cold, choking darkness to slowly drown in, and then nothing. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
He broke the eye-contact and looked away again, his voice suddenly quiet.
"Then again, maybe it's different for real people. I wouldn't know."
She remained silent for a while, her fingers clenching nervously, and a chill as that of a cloud passing in front of the sun made her shiver.
"I'm sorry," she finally said.
"I shouldn't have asked."
He just shook his head and made a slight gesture. Never mind.
They remained sitting in silence for a while, both contemplating what the other had said. It was all like a big jigsaw puzzle, and the two of them held different pieces. Only by comparing them they could finish the puzzle and see the full picture.
"Well," she finally said and looked up at the sun that had already begun its journey towards the horizon.
"I think it's time to get going if we want to get back home before it gets dark."
He looked up and nodded.
"Yes."
They stood and she slipped her gloves back on, adjusting her cloak.
"Uhm..."
She looked up at him and found him looking down at her with a positively sheepish expression.
"What?"
"Could I... have another cinnamon roll? Just one more?"
She raised an eyebrow.
"Please..?" he prompted, if possible looking even more embarrassed than before.
She shook her head and bit back a smile.
"You'll get sick."
"It'd be worth it."
She remained standing where she was, thoughtfully biting her lip. He looked at her with big, beseeching eyes, like a child begging for cookies; which, she thought, wasn't all that far from the truth.
"Oh, all right. Ceipheed, I think I have created a monster..."
"No, " he matter-of-factly pointed out as he followed her towards the doors of the bakery.
"Eris did that. You only introduced the monster to cinnamon."
Afternoon sun filtered down over the village by the time Sylphiel and her companion once again approached the door between the rosy hollyhocks, the slanted rays painting the rural village in shades of soft gold. She had visited the blacksmith, another former patient of hers, and been able to determine he was just fine, no trace of last winter's pneumonia lingering. A quick trip to the shoemaker had made sure her companion would be able to pick up a new pair of shoes next time they visited Inaka. She had also visited the village's grocer and bought some sugar, coffee and salt; and as an afterthought an ounce of cinnamon. Whether it would be used as blackmail, bribes or simply because she felt like it she didn't know, but it was never wrong to have some in the house. Her errands finished, she once again knocked on the door under the sign with the spool and needle, then opened it.
"Misha? I'm back."
"Come in!" a muffled voice exclaimed from behind the red curtain. As Sylphiel swept the curtain aside to enter the room beyond she didn't fail to notice her shadow braced himself, obviously not happy to have to meet the outspoken little woman again.
The golden light was shining through the windows, painting slanted lines in the swirling dust in the air. Misha was sitting on the stool by the table, the needle in her nimble fingers flashing in the light as the thread she wielded bound the pieces of cloth together, making two things become one.
"Be right with you," she said as she finished the piece of clothing she was working on, then fastened her thread with a couple of expert stitches and knots, picked up her scissors and cut it off.
"There," she said as she stood and brushed pieces of string off her clothes. Gathering a pile of clothes in her arms she walked over to her visitors.
"Hello again, you two! Had a nice day? The weather's been gorgeous, hasn't it? We'll just have to be thankful and enjoy it before the spring rains start, ne?"
Sylphiel smiled.
"Yes. Spring was early this year, so we may get some weeks of sunshine before they start."
Misha nodded in agreement, then turned to the silent man standing behind her friend.
"And what about you, big boy? You had a nice day in our charming village? Knowing Sylphiel she probably dragged you straight to Neriko's for some cinnamon rolls, am I right?"
"Yes, " he conceded, apparently a little surprised.
"Ah, yes, Sylli-chan has loved Neriko's cinnamon rolls and chocolate muffins for as long as I can remember. She never visits Inaka without dropping by there."
"Chocolate muffins?"
Sylphiel rolled her eyes.
"Let's not get you started on chocolate. The cinnamon is bad enough."
Misha put her armload of clothes down on the chair Sylphiel had used earlier and gave her guests a very expressive grin.
"Aw, I don't know about that, Sylphiel. There are all kinds of interesting things you can do with chocolate. Although whipped cream is more fun. Maybe a strawberry or two."
"Misha!" Sylphiel exclaimed and futilely tried to make the other woman change the subject by giving her a flushed look. The tailor only laughed, her gray eyes gleaming in the golden sunlight.
"Just sharing my vast knowledge, my dear. If there's anything else you want to know, you can just ask."
The girl and the tall man both stayed very silent. Misha shrugged and turned towards the pile of clothes again.
"Oh, well. You'll probably find out yourselves as you go along. Anyways, I got some more clothes done. Another set of pants, another shirt, a hot pink silk nightshirt with obscene embroideries... Hey, I'm kidding! Sheesh, you don't have to look that frightened! Although you'd probably look really sweet in pink with that purple hair of yours... No? Oh, well. I did make a nightshirt, but it's ordinary white. And no embroideries, I promise."
As she talked she held up the clothes for inspection, then folded them and put them aside.
"Oh, and I found something for you! Just a sec," she said and hurried back to the shelves by the table. She rummaged through the mess of needles, threads, pieces of cloth and scissors and finally gave a triumphant whoop and picked something up.
"Here. I thought it would go nicely with your pretty eyes," she said as she walked back to them and held the item up for him to take. It was a cloak-buckle, in the shape of a golden Xoanna-style dragon curled up around a disc of green jade, the metal flashing and glimmering in the light. Sylphiel gasped.
"Misha, no... We can't accept that. It's real gold, it must be worth a fortune!"
The little woman smiled again, a soft smile this time, and for the first time he noticed the strands of silver in her golden hair, and the fine wrinkles around her eyes.
"And what rich man will walk into my little shop and buy it? Better do something reasonable with it. And you have to admit, it does match your friend's eyes very well."
He looked down at the small woman with greater attention than before, for the first time trying to see past the seemingly obvious character to detect something else beneath. No one had ever called his mismatched eyes pretty before...
Sylphiel sighed and shook her head with a resigned smile.
"Well, I can't stop you, Misha. Sometimes you're too generous for your own good."
The tailor snorted.
"Oh, and who are you to talk?"
Turning back to the tall man she reached up, standing on her toes, and resolutely removed the old simple clasp from his cloak, fastening the new one.
"There you go," she said and pulled at his cloak to adjust it.
"It's dashing. It's a good thing you've got Sylphiel or I'd lie awake all night worrying about all the young girl's hearts you'd break just by walking by."
Trying not to let her teasing words make him self-conscious he looked down at the costly clasp and the small woman who had given it to him.
"Thank you," he mumbled, not certain of how to act.
"You're most welcome, my friend. But hey, how about a little token of friendship in return? A kiss perhaps..?"
He quickly retreated a step, his treacherous face turning a deep red again.
"I don't... I..."
She just laughed at him, a warm, good-hearted laugh.
"Don't worry, I won't make you. 'Sides, you're Sylphiel's. I wouldn't go steal my friends' men."
"Misha, you're hopeless," Sylphiel stated. The tailor nodded with her usual grin.
"I know. But that's why you love me, isn't it? It's been so nice to see you again, Sylli-chan. You'll have to come over for dinner sometime - and bring your friend, of course."
Sylphiel nodded as well and handed her follower the bag with his new clothes.
"I just might. Until then, you take care. And let me know if Poyke gets sick again."
"I will. Good-bye!"
Misha followed her guests through the dusty curtain and opened the door. She gave Sylphiel a warm hug and waved as she left the house, but caught the man's sleeve as he was about to leave.
He stiffened, expecting her to try to get intimate again, but instead she leaned forward and fixed him with a firm stare.
"Like I said before I'm an excellent judge of character, and some of what I see in you I recognize all too well. Don't let bad experiences of the past prevent you from living your life, or you might just end up watching all you care about slip through your fingers. You understand?"
Surprised he simply nodded and she let go of his sleeve. Her carefree grin immediately slid back on and she waved at them as Sylphiel turned to leave.
"Safe journey! Take care now! See you two again soon, ne?"
Like a big peach hanging in a pink sky, the sun spread warm light over the road. The two figures followed their shadows towards the falling twilight.
"What did Misha say to you as we were leaving?" Sylphiel asked, no longer able to restrain her curiosity. He looked up from the road with a questioning expression.
"What? Oh, nothing really. You know her, just another suggestive comment..."
Something about the way he said it made her study his face closer, but she could just as well had tried outstaring the moon.
Suddenly his face turned thoughtful.
"What?" she asked.
"I was wondering... Do you think cinnamon would be good on broccoli?"
She stopped short and just blinked at him.
"No! I don't!"
"Why not?" he asked and she started walking again to catch up.
"You can't put cinnamon on broccoli," she stated.
"Why not?" he asked again.
"Because."
"Have you ever tried?"
"No!"
"Then how do you know you can't?"
"Because!"
"Because what?"
"Just because!"
The shadows grew longer and the sun headed for the horizon as the two wanderers headed into the violet shades of twilight. The only sound to be heard was the crunching of gravel under their feet, and two voices raised in a sophisticated debate.
"Why?"
"Because!"
"But why?"
"Because I said so!"
"Why did you say so?"
"Oh, shut up!"
"Why..?"
So far, so good. Is this going to be a classical 'throw two enemies together and have them realize they've always loved each other' story, as someone put it? Well, we'll just have to wait and see, won't we? Why not go read Rain and find out?
If you'd like to see more short stories like this one, or just tell me you like my fanfiction, please dash off a letter to
Silvestris@hotmail.com, or leave a comment in the Message Board. Or, if yer lazy, at least take the poll below. Thankee.
Inaka is a Japanese word, meaning - and I quote my dictionary here - "country(side); one's home area (hometown)". I thought that fit.
Neriko, the name of the baker, means... Dough. Sorry, couldn't resist. ^^;;
The names of Misha's children, Poyke and Furika, are simply a Japanese-looking way to spell 'pojke' and 'flicka', which means 'boy' and 'girl' in Swedish - the author's own language. Imaginative, ne?
Finally; Misha herself. Where'd she come from? I have no idea, but she walked into the story-line and refused to leave.
What is a poor author to do, eh?
Here I also could make some funny comment about cinnamon, Flagoon and the Bless Blade, and Kopii being a tree bark addict. I won't, however. Although, in some possible future story...
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 little thing is dedicated to all those wonderful people who have sent me fanart. Nothing is as inspiring as getting fanart; without you peoples I might not have decided to write any sequels. Oh, the humanity...