Author:
Phir (meloncholy)
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Date Posted: 23:46:09 06/03/07 Sun
In reply to:
Skare
's message, "Re: Around the Town..." on 10:25:44 06/01/07 Fri
Had he been the kind of man who breathed regularily, he might have waited for her reaction with baited breath. He hadn’t known how she would take his people’s gestures, their affections and customs. Part of him expected that she would be fine with it; after all, it was merely a simple touch to the palm. He’d done it so lightly he wasn’t even sure if she could feel it or not.
But still, there were some cultures out there that burned effigies, beat couples, and grew nationally angry when a man and a woman held hands in public. She and her kin could always be one of those, though, by the way they danced around and touched him, he doubted they were.
In the end, though, he was pretty sure that, even after she had been confused by his gestures, her family sure did enjoy his display of goodwill. Never had anyone touched him so much in a day. The closeness of these child-like masked-ones was so endearing, as was their friendly and cheerful natures. He smiled, charmed, as they touched his palms in return.
What sweet creatures.
They were now occupying so much of his mind that he barely remembered Skare was still with him, and poor soul, no doubt in some kind of discomfort with the closeness of these people-children.
He had just about turned his head to say something to Skare, something clever about how the dump-children looked, when the Know-mother finally decided to speak. Again, his attention was drawn away from the man almost at his side, and instead, he focused on the warm creases in her mask, the empty look of her sockets.
“Robbed…” she said.
She lifted her head, her expression now one of frail sadness, mirroring the sadness in his own heart that had all of a sudden welled up from inside like a spring. A spring started by that one, hateful little word. He felt overwhelmed by the loss brought to him by a simple saying. He swayed as he stood, but otherwise was attentive. She had his attention.
. “Robbed of wife and child…taken,” she whispered, and from her children echoed the shadows of her whisper as they tugged at Skare’s hands. “The Prefect, Our Lord, has robbed you most grievously, Lord Phir…”
He knew. He knew that. His heart screamed it.
For a moment, he blocked out her other words, wrapping these sentences around his mind like rings around fingers. They surrounded him, encircled him, and made the sorrow even worse. He had to strain his mind to bring it back from itself. So he could fully keep his attention on what Mother Know was saying.
She was worried. No, afraid. And of course, she had every right to be. Had he feelings like that, he would be too. Especially with so much there, for her to lose. By helping him, she could lose everything, everything. If they failed…
And, even if they won, would he really be able to protect her?
He thought so. But not down here.
“I wouldn’t…” he opened his mouth to speak, sweeping his arms open from across his chest, in a slow, elegant gesture. Something he imagined her children would pick up on. “I would not, under any circumstances, Sister, leave you here undefended if we should go through with this. I would much rather protect you. In any way possible.”
He tilted his head, his eyes lidded themselves as he thought something. A sob wracked in the back of his throat behind his voice. “Even still….I do not want to…..I do not wish to destroy your last defense against the Sins. I…I could not destroy him. He is my brother. I only wish for my wife and child back, so that he may not destroy them.”
He sighed. Fell into silence.
There was no way he could, even if he wished to, destroy the man he had become blood with. Really, he didn’t even want to attack him the way he was doing now. He didn’t want to bring down his army to savagely destroy the city. Didn’t want to be down here any more than the prefect wanted him down here.
But for the Glanconer, he would. He would stop at nothing to have his wife returned to him. He just didn’t know if that made him capable of killing his own blood. He had no idea if he could even think of that. The idea itself seemed blasphemous…
After a lengthy time, he spoke, with difficulty.
“Please, help me. I do not wish to destroy him. Nor you. Nor anybody else down here. Too much blood has been shed already, and this bloodshed we have caused could have so easily be prevented…it sickens the heart. I want the rest of this to be painless. For everybody. I want my wife. My child. That is all. But not the deaths of anyone further. I…want this to end well, Sister. I didn’t want it this way at all. Not for me, not for him. Not for him,” he nodded once, in the direction of the anguished Skare. “-and not, certainly not, for you and your family.”
He looked uncertain, briefly.
“But I do need your assistance…”
He bit his lip, gently. Really, he knew this was his last chance. He knew what was in store if he should fail here. He would not escape. His men would not escape (save for maybe one) and all this blood would have been lost carelessly, so carelessly, for nithing.
The weight on his shoulders seemed to grow heavier by the second.
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