bethen avilla ; the circle mage (bethe) wrote in thedas,
More people flooded the region on her cries -- at first, the mage was wary that she had brought the wrong attention to herself, but the intervening figures were quickly identified as her allies. The only illumination now was moonlight and the dull glow of the arcane magic trapped within her staff. Their quick response indicated that no ambush impeded their way. Still, neither Ledaal was the person she expected nor needed to show up. They were just common warriors, easily capable of knocking down scores of archers or melee, but not fit to step in the crossfire between two magi.
And that is precisely where the eldest stood. Still under the wolf's spell, Lukaer could not yet see that pet dog for what he truly was and so ignorantly took to it's side. She quenched her frost spell, lacking a clear shot at the mage with the Bann standing in her path. Beth thought to warn him, but she hardly managed to get a word in as more came through the thicket. Alderic's presence was a relief, but the other -- the elven mage they'd picked up in their band of strays at Lothering -- was not nearly as much. While Bethen was no experienced combatant herself, she was at least trained, and had to find out whether or not the woman could defend herself. Even though increasing her allies was good, all that Æolyn was at this moment was an untested liability, not an aid. She wanted to order her back to camp immediately.
But again, she did not get a chance to clarify -- all that happened was further confusion. A timid smile was on the elf's face as she claimed that the Chasind meant no harm, but Bethen remained unconvinced. After all, the wilder had been nothing but hostile, laying threats several times already. It didn't set her at ease, only made her feel irritatedly patronized. Why was everyone rushing to question her, tell her to calm down? She wasn't one moved to quick, reckless action. She had called for help for a reason, not to be doubted by her comrades. The men looked at her as if she were a helpless child, a damsel in need of rescuing. The elf was questioning her judgment -- which again, the level of familiarity between them brought questions of whether or not they were in cahoots, as well. Their respective attitudes did nothing to calm her or ease the tension. Well-meaning or not, Bethen felt defensive and rather undermined by her own people at the moment.
Even worse was that sharp, brutal stab of betrayal -- a knife she knew all too well from both ends -- that she felt when the man, not wolf, revealed himself. Her stomach gave a sickening lurch. Bethen couldn't watch the transformation. She hadn't been wrong in her assessment, and that was somehow vindicating, but mostly heartbreaking. Why, oh why, were people so insistent upon trying to deceive her? Had he come clean at any other time, not under duress, perhaps she would have felt forgiving. Sympathetic, willing to listen to his reasons, to still be his friend. But not now. Not yet. The charade had gone on far too long for her to simply roll over and not think ill of what was going on and what he had done.