Erythros held an eager hand out towards the flame, out towards his Whisper. He could see it in his minds eye: inky ebbing and flowing of that wonderful light. It told him what it wanted him to do in soft, luring tones, and he felt the deepest urge to follow. It was far more than being compelled. It was far more than a simple willingness. There was a force behind this voice, a force that was nearly impossible to resist. All he could think about was to kill, to kill, to obliterate and attack whatever that Whisper told him to go after. And now it was giving him, humble Erythros, a very personal mission. The very idea of it filled him with glee as well as shame.
Shame because even now his own thoughts mocked him:
Think what she would believe if she saw you now. Your eyes gone red and your face lined with sweat. Think what she would think of your thoughts, of the way you lap so eagerly at the opportunity to cause harm to another. She would abhor you. She would scorn you. She would relinquish you utterly, and completely deny that she ever knew you.
Erythros shook his head forcibly as the last of the Whisper's presence leaked back out of his mind, leaving nothing but the vivid images that would allow him to follow precisely its tediously treacherous trap. Apparently this time it was something to do with a guild. Surprising; typically the Whisper was far more secretive than that. To take on a large organization was nearly unheard of, it preferred to work one life at a time. But, perhaps it had more faith in him than even he thought.
He blinked as his vision returned to normal. He squinted his eyes slightly in the dim lighting of the sewers and slowly rose to his feet, bracing his staff against the slippery, moss-riddled floor. When he ascended the ladder that lead to the world above, the crystal-shine assailed his senses, and he blocked it out with his hand. His gaze shifted sharply to the ground, towards a small patch of wild grass filled with an assortment of flora. He spotted a brilliant looking starphire where it poked itself out just past the weeds. Erythros knelt down and plucked it free, twirling it between his fingers and smelling its sweetness to chase the remnants of the dank scent of the sewers from his nostrils.
He had upset his Whisper the other day. He knew he had. It had not tried to speak with him at all since the incident with Mariana and the bumbling Ylian, so he was in truth quite startled when it overwhelmed his senses suddenly and filled him with visions of purpose. Though he would not question it. His calling was assured, and even though he had faltered, it appeared that he was forgiven, at least for now.
I'll give this flower to Mariana, he thought, and the inclination was entirely unbidden. He didn't think twice about it, really. Simply decided she might like a flower.
He purchased a small bit of parchment and ink from Jayose; knowing that no one could track down such a trivial transaction and trace it to him. With his palm pressed to the middle of the paper as he braced himself against a wall, he scribbled the note that the whisper had bidden him to scribe.
That finished, Erythros rolled up the scroll in his hands and then stuffed it neatly into a small container, ready to be delivered unto it's target. A Priestess, if he recalled correctly from their infrequent encounters. Always happy and smiling. Ever effervescent and amiable. It was rather a pity to consider that soon, she would not be nearly so happy. Perhaps the light heart-ed lover of life would soon discover that death's kiss was considerably more potent. More...passionate.
Erythros wandered through the plaza with confident strides, knowing his purpose. He passed the letter to a ylian for him to deliver, slipping him considerable coin to keep him quiet and hiding his features beneath his hood so that not even he would know from whom the letter was sent. With this first part of his mission complete, the dermorian walked silently over the threshold of the tavern door and down into the basement to contemplate. He saw Mariana and he felt his heart beat faster.
She was staring into the hearth as she usually was, seeming drawn to the light and life of the fire. He rubbed the smooth stem of the flower and approached her quietly, offering his gift wordlessly at first. He smiled at her warmly, trying to radiate as much friendliness as he could in the expression, trying to match the same kindness that he was always floored by when she spoke to him.
Mariana's eyes fell to the flower, and she reaches towards it. She took it delicately between her gauntlet-ed fingers and somehow managed not to crush it. She stared at it for a moment, as if numbed by the randomness of the gift, and Erythros felt his heart swell further as her expression softened and she smiled tentatively.
“I...thank you, Erythros,” she said quietly. She cradled the blue petals and gently touched them so that they depressed downwards and sluggishly popped back up again. “How kind of you.”
He leaned against the table slightly and smiled back at her. Every part of him longed to have her trust. He knew he didn't deserve it. Knew, in fact, that she would be far better off if she trusted her instincts in this matter and veered far away from him whenever they encountered one another. But he could not bring himself to be selfless enough to push her away. At least, not yet. They had grown ever closer over the past few weeks, with a rapidness that startled him. She had taken a fist of volcano to the concrete walls around his emotions. He'd been so dispassionate before, but now, around her, he felt himself having the capacity to feel again.
“You're quite welcome,” he replied. He sat down and let his hand knead the aching muscles in his legs, the tendons weary from traversing the sewers. “I thought you might like it.”
Mariana searched his face, as though she could sense the tiredness in him. She gently placed the flower in a fold of her travelsack where it would not be destroyed by the jostling of her movements or pressed against the other contents of her bag.
“I saw you at that bit of dueling in front of the arena the other day,” she said casually. “I didn't know you were a duelist.”
“I wasn't participating, I don't partake of dueling, no,” he replied. He watched her eyes as she spoke, watched the subtle hints of the ruminations that were going on behind them: the ever-present furrow in her brow, the way her lips twitched when she connected the dots, the telling glimmer of a puzzle solved.
She nodded and tilted her head to the side slightly. “I have trouble picturing you dueling. Simply because I can't see you angry enough to raise your blade to harm another.”
Erythros felt that warmth again, and it nearly overpowered his senses for a moment, stronger than any whisper.
She trusts me, she trusts me, gods above she trusts me...
He laughed quietly, trying not to show the effect her words were having upon him. “Perhaps I should try my hand at it sometime,” he remarked.
“Indeed? That’s be something I'd like to see.” She laughed softly; a warm, rich sound.
He grinned and shook his head with a positively adamant air. “No, it wouldn't. I don't think my dueling skills would be something anyone would like to see.”
Mariana simply shrugged and leaned back in her chair, into a more relaxed position. “There is more to a person than mere strength. There is also character, and that, my friend, you have in spades.”
Erythros closed his eyes for a brief moment. The truth behind it all raged inside of him, rebelling against her generous words. He looked back up at her slowly and spoke uncertainly to her, his voice dipping to merely a quiet murmur. “Why is it that you are so kind to me, Mariana?”
~~
Despite all of the uncertainty this elf left her with, for some reason, she could no longer resist the impulse that lay beneath the current of instability. She wanted to comfort him. She could feel the way his eyes saw nothing but emptiness. At first, she thought he reacted with bitterness. But now, as she'd grown to know him better, there was this incredible sadness about him. She felt badly for him. She felt as though she had to somehow make it better.
What's the matter, Mariana? Can't even admit to yourself that you like the guy? Her conscience mocked her.
“Well...simple. I...I mean, why wouldn't I be? You're respectable enough. You're personality is...refreshing.”
Erythros didn't seem to buy her admittedly lame explanation. He leaned back and observed her speculatively. She twitched in the silence and fidgeted in her seat, until finally she decided to try and flip the situation around.
“Well you could ask the same question of yourself regarding me,” she said with an almost flippant air. “You're kind enough to me without any real reason to be. See? Hospitality. That's how it goes.”
Erythros slowly slid his elbows off the table from where he'd come to rest them. From somewhere above them upon the landing, Mariana heard Dannae speaking softly to someone, a courier perhaps, and the soft brushing noise that follows the passing of a letter. She frowned for a moment as she heard urgent whispering, but her attention was abruptly distracted by the words coming out of Erythros' mouth.
He was leaning casually in his chair, and his hands were folded in his lap. He kept his eyes fixed on Mariana unabashedly. “I find you interesting because you are kind beyond reason, and loving even when you have not been loved. You are joyful, despite a lifetime of sadness, and despite your pain, you still show love and kindness to those who do not deserve it, including myself.”
Mariana felt her mouth drop slightly. She could imagine the way her face probably looked at this moment: bug-eyed bewilderment, a completely stupefied expression on it. Now, insults she could take. Insults were easy, didn't matter what they were. You could fight back with quick quips and sharp jabs. But this was entirely different. She found this odd sort of paranoia rising up inside of her and slamming into her, telling her he's mocking you somehow, Mari. Teasing you. He doesn't really mean that. He's trying to insult you.
The fenki shook herself and stammered out a hesitant and uncertain reponse. She looked down at the mug of cider in her paws and traced the handle awkwardly, fiddling with the foam that clung to the rim of the drink.
“I...thank you,” she muttered. “For the...um...praise.” She slowly looked back up at him, watching his face, trying to find a sign of sarcasm or irony upon it. She could find none; the only thing present was that soft reassuring smile and those gentle eyes. “Why do you not believe you deserve my kindness?” She blurted. “Ever since I met you you've been nothing but good to me. Or to anyone else, for that matter.”
She caught it: the hint of guilt that flickered for the barest of breaths upon his face. It was so instant that she nearly missed it, but it was there nonetheless. Rather than fill her with fear, it made her all the more curious. There was something going on she didn't know, and didn't understand. She swore to herself then that she would help him with it. It was as though he were trapped inside a small cage. Perhaps she could melt the lock off of it for him.
“You first showed it to me when you did not know me,” he said. “And even now, you still show it, far beyond anything I have showed you in return.”
Mariana shook her head. “No, you've helped me actually,” she confessed. “You put me at ease in a way. You're calm and steady, and that's a relief.” She was lying slightly, it was true. But she did find herself drawn to him for reasons she could not explain.
“I'm glad I could help in some small way,” he replied, still watching her with those searching eyes. She stared at them for a few moments, and her decision clicked into place as she observed the frustratingly emerald pigment. She'd been set on finding out herself, but perhaps she could merely inquire about it outright. It would save time, and she could immediately begin searching for a way to solve whatever the problem was.
“May I ask you something?”
He nodded his head. “Anything,” he responded.
“Your eyes...” She began, trying to keep her tone gentle and without any urgency. “They sometimes...shift color. I was wondering why that is?”
His expression shifted again. It was rapid and fleeting. If she'd looked away even for a moment, she would have missed it before he covered it once more.
“I would answer any question you would ask me. I would only ask that you not inquire about this.”
Mariana nodded outwardly. “If that is your wish, I will abide by it, for now. But know that you can trust me.”
Inwardly she was already going over other possible venues through which she could discover her answer. She could go to Jayose and ask him if he had any books in which similar phenomenon were described. She could find Roberet or perhaps that one klyros...what was his name, Travosh? He might know something, possibly. If he wasn't going to tell her himself, she'd find out some other way. It wasn't about whether or not she was going to make the discovery. It was simply about how quickly she could manage to do so.
She was startled out of her deliberations when she looked back at the dermorian's face. His eyes were misting over as he looked at her, and then more so as he looked down and away. There was shame in those eyes now. It filled her with a strange sort of pain to see it. She wanted to reassure him and tell him that it was alright, she forgave him. There was always room to be forgiven. Whatever it was, she'd help him through it.
“I will not deny you an answer,” he said, his tone softer than usual. “I will only ask that you please, please, please. Do not seek into this.”
Mariana moved her paw over slowly, as though forcing it through wet cement. It hovered over his hand, which was resting flatly upon the table. She steeled herself as if she were about to engage a difficult struggle and allowed it to settle briefly over his hand, touching his skin.
Memories assailed her, but one stood out in prominent, stark contrast: her fingers snapping, one by one, pop pop popping as they were broken. “You shouldn't have dropped that mug,” Kredrian was saying to her, “That was a very fine mug, and now look at it, all shattered. How would you like it if I shattered you?”
“I understand, my friend,” she told Erythros, proud that her voice sounded steady. The memory sent phantom pain to her nerves and her fingers twitched more when he rested his other hand atop them. She flinched, and he removed his hand with a soft apology. “I will not ask it of you, if it causes you such pain.”
She slowly withdrew her paw and flexed the fingers individually before looking back up at him, cringing at the sympathy that was in his eyes.
“I should be getting some rest,” she said quietly. She rose from her seat and grabbed her mug, using the remaining cider to put out the dull glowing embers of the fire in the hearth. “You should as well, it's been a long evening.”
Erythros nodded in response.
“Rest well, Mariana,” he said.
She nodded once and moved over to the stairs, clutching the handle of the mug hard enough that she was surprised the ceramic piece did not break within her grip.
But don't think this is over, elf.
