Truth is absolute,
but that does not mean it's the same for all people.
The spring rains fell, veils of water sweeping over the land like those of a dancer, revitalizing the ground. Then, like time and life do, they moved on, giving in to sunshine once more. The moisture and warmth caused a virtual explosion of life, the steaming meadows sprouting new greenery overnight, flowers reaching up to greet the sun everywhere.
Sylphiel knelt on the fresh, green grass of her mother's garden, her arms buried halfway to her elbows in the rich soil. Ever since she was little she had loved all those things that grew and lived, plants and creatures alike. It was in this garden she had first helped her mother with the flowers and herbs, learning their secrets of healing and danger. Even though her life in Sairaag and her training as Shrine Maiden had usually focused on more ethereal things, she had always felt in touch with the earth and the life growing from it. Maybe because of her mother's love for flowers; maybe because of the close bond to Flagoon she had formed through many days of childhood spent playing in its protecting shadow. Humming to herself she dug her hands deeper into the earth, removing a stray weed here, supporting up a broken stalk there, automatically using her white magic to help her flowers grow.
He was sitting on a stone bench wedged between two willows, its rough surface half covered with moss, grass and vines. His fingers absently playing with the leaves of the vines, he watched her work with interest. How she could find grass and plants so intriguing he couldn't quite comprehend, but something about it all obviously made her happy. Poohti followed in her tracks, trying to catch the weeds she threw away, bloodthirstily pouncing the limp leaves.
The last few weeks had been rather quiet, another period of adjustment after those few rainy days of raging emotion. Possibly the last such battle to take place, he mused. By now there weren't really many secrets left between them; if they'd managed to come this far, then the hardest part was probably behind them. Every time he got think about it, it still amazed him. She had witnessed his inhuman crimes all those years ago with her own eyes, she knew his darkest secrets, and yet... Despite that, she had apparently found something in him worth saving.
He might not fully understand her reasons, but simply realizing such a notion existed intrigued him. Without any elements of compulsion, her actions themselves had taught him more about being human than any of Eris' lecturing or Rezo's memories ever had.
More than once encountering her forgiveness where he would have expected retribution, he was slowly learning to let go of his mistrustfulness, let his guard down. Learning to trust.
It wasn't easy.
Every instinct and memory of his short life had taught him fighting was the only way to survive, that faith only lead to betrayal and pain. Yet he had come to realize that in this new situation, those warped survival instincts might bring about his downfall more certainly than any surrender. Trusting his blue-haired keeper might mean disappointment and pain in the end; not to, however, made it just a question of time. He still didn't know anything about the future, but it didn't really matter anymore. He preferred her by now familiar company before the unknown world anyway; the possibility of finding any other persons as understanding as she was utterly unlikely.
Fancy that.
Appreciation; maybe even some kind of hesitant affection?
Presumably.
Who would have thought it?
She glanced up from her dirty fingers and found him studying her with a thoughtful expression on his face. After the quarrel and reconciliation some weeks ago his attitude had slowly changed. He was not only enduring her company as before, but sometimes intentionally seeking it, like now. On the whole he seemed more relaxed, hesitantly allowing her a glimpse of the true emotions normally hidden behind his mask of indifference. Behind his cool disposition he was really rather uncertain, all but shy.
Who would have thought that?
It was a slow and delicate process as they were finally beginning to accept each other for what they were, not having to keep up appearances anymore. Both of them were struggling with many bad memories of a dark past. But forced by the other's company they had to stop running away from them, had to bring them into the light. Once stared in the face a fear lost much of its power and could be buried once and for all, dispatched into the past where it belonged.
She frowned thoughtfully as she yanked a dandelion sprout from her flower-bed. In many ways they had probably been good for each other, even if the ride had been everything but easy. Ceipheed alone knew how many more years of her life she could have spent blinded by the past, unable to go on, if he hadn't showed up.
And as for her own emotions...
It had taken her a long time to admit any kind of fondness of him to herself, but her confusion as he had left had forced her to examine her feelings closer. She had come to realize she really appreciated his company. Not only the presence of another human being, but someone who could actually somehow understand her. It had come as a surprise, but they seemed to have more in common than she had first imagined. And it frightened her.
A part of her heart still told her it was wrong. She shouldn't allow herself to feel that way about the man who had destroyed her life. Yet she had gotten to know him well enough to know he had changed. Given a second chance, shown a different path than violence and death, he had changed. The monster who had destroyed Sairaag had died in its ruins almost three years ago. The man sitting in her garden with her now was nothing as much as a confused child, trying to figure the world out.
She bit her lip and went through the flower-bed with expert fingers, removing weeds and stones and fluffing up the leaves of the plants.
That stubborn feeling of guilt was not the only problem. On that horrible night in Sairaag almost three years ago she had lost everything she had ever cared about, and soon after she had grown to understand the man she loved had chosen someone else. It was difficult to allow herself to feel affection again.
No matter how much she could consciously tell herself none of what had happened to Sairaag had been her fault, a treacherous part of her, deep inside, whispered maybe her love was a curse. She was afraid to try to get too close to another person again, afraid she would only get hurt once more in the end.
Yet, if there was anything the last few months had taught her, it was that running away was never a solution to a problem. Adjusting the last green stalks she took a deep breath and looked up.
"We need to talk."
He looked away from the cat dismembering a tuft of grass and back at her.
"About what?"
She stroked her hands against the grass, wiping most of the dirt off her fingers.
"About everything. The future. We can't go on like this."
Knowing him well enough by now to discern every slight change in his poise, she immediately caught the glint of worry in his eyes, although his face remained calm.
"Alright. We can talk. Is there anything special you want to discuss?"
She straightened and crossed her legs, absently bringing a coil of hair to her lips, then caught herself and brushed it away.
"Well, yes. No. I don't know. I just know this can't go on."
"What can't go on?"
She made an airy gesture.
"All of this. You occupying my living room, this taking every day as it comes... It just doesn't work anymore. It's been over two months since you first moved in here. Six weeks from tomorrow I'll turn twenty. I'd like to decide what I should do with my life - or at least decide what I should do with the next few days. I guess that's what I'm trying to say. I can't put decisions off anymore."
He nodded reluctantly, his face deliberately indifferent and composed, yet there was veiled distress in his eyes. Don't take this away from me now that I've finally found it, those eyes seemed to whisper.
"And what have you decided?"
His voice sounded cold, detached. Shielding himself from all emotion to avoid getting hurt... how well she could read him by now, she reflected with a melancholy little smile
"Making this decision isn't easy for me," she begun, unconsciously playing with a lock of her hair.
"There are so many things to take into account. I can only hope it will all work out in the end..."
"Yes..?"
"I want my living room back. I won't have you sleep on my couch anymore."
So much for trust, he thought with a bitter sneer. I should have known it was too good to last.
"So, I guess we'll just have to clean out a room for you instead."
He blinked, then blinked again.
"What?"
She shrugged and gave him an innocent smile. She knew, he realized. Knew how I would react, what I would think she meant. She did it on purpose, the little imp...
"There's the room across the hallway upstairs from mine... It's full of old junk now, sine no one's needed it for so long, but it shouldn't be too hard to move some of that to the attic. It needs to be cleaned out, anyway," she said, making it sound as if it wasn't really all that important. Oh, but it was... He looked down on his clenched hands in silence, then up again.
"Are you saying you will let me stay here?"
She bit her lip and remained silent for a second, then sighed with a hesitant smile.
"Yes. That is what I'm saying. I'm not talking eternity, till death do us part here, but you know... Until something else comes up, ne?"
He nodded slowly, trying to think of something to say. He had dreaded this moment for so long, worried about what her final decision would be. And suddenly it was past, so fast he had barely been able to brace himself for it.
She wanted him to stay.
He admitted to himself he truly wanted to stay, too. Having a place to call 'home', knowing he was welcome there... Yes. He wanted that.
"You are very generous," he said, glancing down at the cat again. It was strange how someone as eloquent as himself could sometimes have such a hard time finding the proper words, he mused detachedly. When they were really needed, the right words were so reluctant to come.
"I would like that... To stay..." he ventured, then frowned in resigned dismay at himself. She just smiled, that slightly teasing smile again, as if she could read his mind.
Who needed words anyway?
"Then I'll just go wash my hands off and we can get to work," she decided and stood, rubbing her hands to get rid of most of the dirt. He nodded once in agreement and stood as well, following her towards the house.
Poohti remained sitting on top of her fallen prey, a few sad blades of grass and sprawling roots all that was left of the tuft of grass. She looked after her humans in disappointment as they left, then shrugged and stalked away to chase the butterflies out of Sylphiel's favorite flower-bed.
He followed her up the small set of stairs, the third step creaking twice under their feet. The door to her room was open and he caught a glimpse of a sunlit room with a window on the far wall, framed by blue curtains, and a well made bed in the corner. He had never set foot up here before; the stairs had always marked an invisible borderline. Everything beyond them was her domain, and he was not to intrude unless invited. Which he was today, for the first time.
She opened a door to the left of the stairs, across the hallway from her own room. He followed her, and immediately had to squeeze his eyes and nose shut not to sneeze. It was obvious no one had entered the room for a long time; dust swirled like thick smoke as they moved between rickety piles of boxes and furniture. Caught unprepared, Sylphiel wasn't as quick as he and was overcome by a fit of sneezing. She managed to get through the mess to reach the window and flung it open to let the fresh air inside. The stuffy smell was slowly replaced by the scent of flowers and sun-warmed grass, and the rays of sunlight etched well defined lines through the swirling dust.
"There," she managed as she had finally stopped sneezing. She put her hands on her hips and looked around the room. Somewhat more careful he studied the closest heap of furniture, then let his gaze sweep over the rest of the room. It was slightly smaller than hers, with the same slanted ceiling and rough beams; and it was, from wall to wall, crammed with boxes, furniture and odd objects. He thought he glimpsed a bed somewhere under one of the more impressive piles in the corner by the window, but it was impossible to tell for sure.
"My," she stated and looked around with a sheepish smile.
"There sure is a lot of junk in here. It's been years since this place got cleaned out."
He nodded in agreement and then proceeded to almost jump out of his skin as he turned around to find himself face to face with the dusty, stuffed head of some horned animal or other.
(It is a fact that in any kind of dusty attic or messy storage-room, no matter how out of place they may seem, there will be stuffed animal's head somewhere. No one knows how they get there, but they are obviously an essential part of the scenery. Strange but true.)
With a look of firm determination Sylphiel turned towards the closest pile and picked up the uppermost box, then sat down on the floor and opened it.
"Better get started. I really need to sort all this junk through..." she muttered into the box as she leafed through some sheets of paper inside. He nodded and shot the offensive trophy a sulky glare, then walked past her to the window and looked outside. The window faced the garden, just like the windows of the living room downstairs, letting the light of the afternoon sun inside. On the grass below Poohti was busy hunting butterflies, trampling the flowers Sylphiel so carefully had attended to earlier, and he winced at the sight. It was a good thing the cat was sweet enough to get away with anything, or she'd most likely be in deep trouble when the blue-haired girl found out.
Ah, well. What you don't know, won't hurt you... at least for a while yet.
He turned away from the window again and found Sylphiel sorting through a box full of small stuffed animals and dolls with a sentimental smile on her face.
"My little Teddy..! And Boo and Winnie.. and..."
He crouched on the other side of the box and peered into it at the clumsy little figures inside, with their button eyes and embroidered sunny grins.
"Toys?"
She nodded absently, still smiling. Then she gave a squeal of delight and picked up another toy, in his eyes identical to any of the others. With an elated grin she shoved it into his hands.
"It's Imoto-chan!" she exclaimed, as if that explained everything. He gave the small doll a skeptic look.
"The doll is your sister..?"
She giggled and shook her head, unconsciously picking up other toys and dumping them into his hands.
"No, of course not! But when I was little I always wanted a baby sister to take care of. Since I was an only child, I called this doll my 'sister' and brought her with me everywhere I went."
She paused as she realized his arms were full of toys and his expression rather embarrassed.
"What do you want me to do with these?"
She blinked, then smiled sheepishly.
"Uhm. Let's just put those in the 'to keep' pile. I don't like having to throw any of this away, but there's just not room for it all."
"Where is the 'to keep' pile?"
She patted a more or less empty spot on the floor.
"Right here. And this," she decided, dusting off another spot, " is the 'throw away' one."
"Your will, Great One."
She snorted and put the other toys away, then reached for the next box.
"Stop that, or I might just drag you through a genuine doll tea-party, just for old times sake."
"Their old times, or mine?"
"I'll let you figure that one out all by yourself. Ooh! These are my first school books! A B C..."
He smiled slightly as she dug into her boxes with great enthusiasm. Under her composed Shrine Maiden appearances she possessed a warm, sometimes even pointed sense of humor. Both a little girl and a young woman at the same time; so strong and yet so gentle. Intriguing...
He blinked as he realized she was talking to him again.
"Hmm?"
"I said, could you please get me that big, brown box over there? Thank you."
Humming absently to herself she sorted through the boxes and other items, the 'to keep' and 'throw away' piles growing steadily. Every now and then she would chirp with delight as she came across some especially dear keepsake and tell the tale behind it. He helped bringing the heavier boxes over to her and piling up the two growing heaps beside her.
Amazing, he thought to himself as he studied all the things cramming the room, amazing how many things people accumulated during their lives. As for himself he owned little more than the clothes he wore, the golden dragon-clasp of his cloak the only item of value he now possessed. But to her, every single one of the things in this room had a special meaning, told a story, represented a memory.
Wonder how much you can tell about a person by just looking at the things they hold dear, he mused. The dolls were definitely a good pointer when it came to Sylphiel. And the books on white magic and the dried flowers...
He absently browsed through the contents of one of the boxes beside him. Mostly sheets of paper and a few albums... He picked one up and leafed through it. There were pictures inside. Some were only quick sketches in charcoal and graphite, other were detailed watercolor portraits. Most pictures were of a small girl with short dark hair and large mischievous eyes.
"Oh! You found my mother's picture collection! She made these before she died. She was very skilled at drawing."
He looked up from the pictures of the little girl at the young woman in front of him, then back.
"This is you?"
She nodded and grabbed another album, slowly leafing through it.
"Your hair was short then," he commented.
She looked up with a smile.
"Yes, I used to have it cut short during the summers when I was little. It was nice and cool that way. And that way I wouldn't get it all tangled when I was out playing, either."
They remained silent for a while, both looking through the pictures. He frowned thoughtfully.
"You look so small here."
She looked up again and grinned.
"Well, those pictures are almost sixteen years old. Children tend to grow bigger during such a long period of time."
Their eyes met for a second and she suddenly realized he had never been a child himself, never had grown up. He flashed her a dry smile as he saw her blink in sudden remembrance. She hesitated, then smiled again.
"This is almost like a game of truth or dare," she commented.
"Or at least 'truth'. I'll tell you a memory if you tell me one in return."
He winced and lowered the picture album he was holding.
"I doubt you would want to hear any of my memories."
She shrugged and absently let her hands go back to sorting the boxes.
"Don't say that. I think it would be interesting. You never talk about yourself. Besides, you owe me a handful of memories. I already told you a lot of mine."
He looked everything but enthusiastic as he put the album back into the box and shoved it in the direction of the 'to keep' pile.
"I didn't ask for yours," he pointed out. She looked up from her hands with disappointed, sorrowful eyes.
"You won't tell me..?"
He gave her a flat stare.
"Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?" she asked, her voice refined innocence and her eyes large and pleading. He glared at her in disgust, then had to fight a tickling urge to squirm under her beseeching gaze. She could be perfectly ruthless when she put her mind to it.
"Oh, fine. Whatever."
A wide grin spread across her face and she expectantly leaned forward and rested her chin in her hand. He made an uncertain gesture.
"So, what do you want to know?"
She shrugged and played with a coil of hair.
"Whatever you feel like telling. How old are you, for example?"
"Good question. Does it count when you're being dead?"
She picked up one of the stuffed teddy-bears from the 'to keep' pile and threw it at him.
"Owtch... Just asking. No need to get violent."
"Quit stalling."
"Alright, alright. As far as I know the entire process was begun some eight years ago. Eris finally 'activated' me when it was clear Rezo wouldn't return to her, about three and a half years before... Well, before you killed me again. After that I guess it all gets rhetorical."
She bit her lip and studied him closer.
"Only three years?"
"And a half," he added, as important as any three-year old pointing out such a fact, " Half a year makes a big difference in that perspective."
She nodded thoughtfully and chewed at the loop of hair she had been playing with earlier.
"I guess it would, yes. Somehow I just never thought of it like that before."
He shrugged.
"Most people wouldn't."
She nodded and kept chewing absently on her hair. For some reason it bothered him immensely and he had to fight down an urge to sweep the hair out of her face.
"Well?" she said.
"Well what?"
"Any other memories?"
"It's your turn."
"No, it's not. I already told you several."
"That was before. It's your turn now."
She shrugged and finally brushed the hair away.
"Alright. What do you want to know?"
He studied the young woman in front of him as he tried to think of something to ask her. There were still many things he didn't know about her, but some subjects were best left unapproached...
"Tell me about your mother," he finally ventured. She raised an eyebrow in surprise, then shrugged.
"I was five when she died. I don't remember a whole lot about her, except that she was always very kind. We used to spend a lot of time in the garden here during the summers. She loved flowers. Why?"
He shrugged, not really certain himself. Family bonds were a mystery to him, but they seemed to be important to other people.
"Well, your turn," she stated. He gave her a glum look.
"Yes?"
"Hmm... Let's see..."
She brought that annoying coil of hair to her lips again as she was thinking and he forced himself to look the other way. He could almost feel his own face tickle as she brushed the thing over her lips. His fingers twitched.
She studied him thoughtfully. There were still so many mysteries left about him. Now she had a chance to solve some of them, but she needed to ask the right questions...
She frowned and absently played with her hair.
"I don't know what to ask. I just don't know anything about you at all. Can't you just tell me?"
He gave her a dubious look.
"I don't know what there is to tell. I've spent most of my life hidden away in an underground laboratory, like some shameful secret. Sometimes Eris would drag me along somewhere and use my face and Rezo's name to get what she wanted. Other than that... I don't know what else there is to tell."
Her eyes grew dark and filled with pain caused by compassion. He turned away.
He had never asked for her pity.
"Your turn," he stated, his voice indifferent. She nodded.
"Yes. Go ahead."
"Tell me about Flagoon. Even back then you were obviously close to it. How come?"
She smiled again.
"I am a Shrine Maiden of Sairaag, after all. Flagoon is... was the city's guardian. We were all connected to it, some more than others."
She picked up the infernal loop of hair again and played with it.
"I used to play under the Tree when I was little. I think that because I was always so close to it, a little of its holiness seeped into me. That may be why I've always had a talent for white magic. I had a secret place under its roots where I brought my toys. And then, a few years later, the Bless Blade."
His eyes suddenly went wide.
"You were the one who brought the sword to the tree?"
She blushed and traced patterns in the dust on the floor.
"Well... Yes. It was just a child's game. I sneaked into the Temple and took the sword away to hide it as a prank. I was always such a good girl, and I just felt like doing something bad for a change. But when people noticed it was gone, it caused such an uproar I didn't dare to confess I was the one who had taken it. I was terrified for months afterwards that someone would find out."
He snorted and shook his head, not certain whether he should laugh or cry.
"A child's prank? That was it? The accursed thing just happened to be there?"
She smiled hesitantly. He shook his head again with a resigned look.
"Lucky break for you, I'd say. Things would have ended very differently if you hadn't. Then again, maybe Flagoon had something to do with it. Maybe it knew you'd need the sword one day."
She nodded.
"Not impossible. It sure did come in handy. Er... That is..."
He gave her an expressive look.
"Our opinions on that particular matter would differ. It's always much nicer to be facing the blunt end of the sword."
She shrugged.
"Demon Beasts are considered cheating, anyway."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Since when?"
"Universal Law."
"Is that so?"
"Yes."
"Ah."
They looked at each other in tense silence for a few moments, then the corners of his mouth twitched and his lips stretched into a reluctant smile.
"I guess I had that coming."
Whether he was referring to her comment or the actual sword was unclear, but she smiled anyway.
To think she could actually even joke about these things now... How far she had come from her past worries, she mused. How far they had come.
"Your turn."
"Do I have to?"
"Yup."
By the time Poohti had grown tired of hunting butterflies and came sauntering into the room, there was actually more empty floor visible than dusty boxes. The cat walked past the two humans and jumped onto the bed, only to have a huge cloud of dust explode around her from the old bedspreads. Her helpless sneezing made the two look up from their conversation and grin at her, to her great chagrin.
How undignified...
"Whose turn?"
"Yours."
"Are you sure?"
"No, but asking is the same as volunteering. That makes it your turn"
"According to what rules..?"
He shrugged.
"We're running out of questions anyway, so does it really matter?"
She scowled at him a little while longer, then shrugged.
"Whatever. Fire away."
He grinned a perfectly devilish smile and a concentrated ball of white-hot fire appeared soaring above his palm.
"Are you certain you wouldn't rather rephrase that?"
She gave him a flat look.
"It's your room. If you want to throw fireballs around before you've even moved in, that's up to you. I think I would have preferred some less drastic redecorating, though."
He shrugged and the sphere of flames disappeared. By now his magic was all but completely recovered. It felt good to have the power responding again, but he had learned a valuable lesson in his past lifetime. Raw power wasn't any good unless it was used with discernment and control.
"Hmm... Question... Favorite color?"
"Blue."
"Okay."
"What about you?"
"Anything but red. Blue and green are nice, I guess. Never really thought about it."
"Okay."
He tried to think of another question, but gave up. After several hours of cleaning out the room and playing the little game there wasn't much left to ask about.
She was going through the 'to keep' pile for the third time, mercilessly sorting out even more things. Holding her mother's picture album in her hand she was looking through the pictures again, absentmindedly chewing on that offensive lock of hair...
Without thinking he finally reached out and irritatedly brushed it out of her face, then froze as he realized what he had done. She just stared up at him, her empty hand still held in front of her face.
"I... " he began, quickly lowering his hand.
What in Ceipheed's name had possessed him to that? He if someone should know how unpleasant it was to be touched. Yet she didn't look upset. In fact she was... smiling?
"My teachers were always telling me to leave my hair alone," she said and brushed her hair back over her shoulder.
"It's a bad habit, I know. Sometimes I just forget I'm doing it."
He nodded, his cheeks feeling strangely hot.
"It's annoying," he managed, then winced at how accusing it sounded.
She just giggled, apparently well aware of his discomfort.
"My father bought me my first pair of gloves just to keep my from chewing on my fingernails. We all have these little bad habits."
He nodded and quickly concentrated his attention on the boxes on the floor again, trying to ignore her. Why did his heart beat so hard? Abashment, embarrassment... or something else?
Ridiculous.
And yet...
Maybe physical contact didn't have to be unpleasant.
Her dark smoke-blue hair had been soft and silky to the touch...
He forced himself to concentrate on arranging the albums neatly into one of the empty boxes.
The light slowly faded from the room as the afternoon sky darkened into the dull blue of evening.
By the time they were finished the stars had already come out. All the items she wanted to keep had been neatly tucked into the empty boxes and put in the attic, and all the rest had been dumped outside the front door to be taken away.
There was no moon this night, only fleeting veils of clouds soaring between the stars and earth. He stood by the window in his room and looked out at the night.
What a day, he mused to himself.
A day of changes.
The privacy of a room of his own was a new luxury, but one he decided he could get used to very fast. His own domain. Pleasant.
The cool night breeze entered through the open window and played with his hair, expelling the last traces of dust from the room. He shivered slightly as the wind ruffled his bangs; though the days were sunny and warm now, evenings were still chilly. After a final look into the darkness of space he closed the window and turned back to the room.
The floor had been swept clean and the bed made with fresh sheets and covers. A desk that had been discovered in one of the piles of furniture occupied the wall across the room from the bed, crowned with a flickering candle a pile of interesting-looking books. Snoozing comfortably on one of his pillows on the bed was the little gray cat with her blurry green stripes, rolled up like a furry snail. He couldn't help but grinning down at her.
"Shameless creature."
She opened one eye and gave him a look as if to say; 'Of course. I'm a cat, aren't I?"
He smiled resignedly and reached out to reclaim his pillow. She gave him a flat look as she was lifted from the comfortable bed. Her gray fur was really soft. Almost like Sylphiel's hair had been...
He stopped short and unceremoniously dumped the cat on the floor. What did that have to do with anything? He scowled at himself and walked over to the desk to fiddle with the books. He still didn't know what had made him reach out and touch her the way he had. He would never had dreamed of doing it to anyone else. Surely physical touch could only bring pain..?
But if that was true, why did his fingertips still tingle at the memory of her hair against his skin? His frown deepened and he shoved his hands into his pockets to dull the strange burning sensation in his fingertips. His fingers grazed something small and dry tucked into the folds of cloth in his pocket and he closed his hand over it. Curious, he picked it up to examine it, and as he recognized it his eyes went wide with surprise. It was a leaf of Flagoon, the one he had picked up in Sairaag several weeks ago, as fever raged through him and he was certain he would once again face death under the Holy Tree. Had it been in his pocket all this time?
As he studied it closer he smiled wryly. Those leaves certainly were durable. Despite the fact it had been tucked away in his pocket for several weeks it was still green and alive. Unlike the seedling he had brought back into the world with him, this leaf didn't harbor the full power of Flagoon's spirit, but just a whisper of white magic. The tickle of energy was barely tangible. Almost a perfectly ordinary fallen leaf, like any other.
Almost.
He shrugged and carefully tucked it under one of the books on the small shelf by the bed. A memento, an meaningful reminder, if nothing else.
He looked around the room one last time and allowed himself a slight sigh of satisfaction. Then he turned towards the desk and blew out the candle, surrendering the room to darkness.
Well, how about that? So that's where it's headed... Want more? Go read Summer!
Write me at Silvestris@hotmail.com and bug me to write more if you want to find out.
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...
Once again, thank you Shadra, for doing the Beta Reading. Also, thank you Zamielle, for staying by my side, emanating inspiration. Kram on the two of you!