. (siri) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-07-13 03:19:00 |
|
|||
“It’s only for a week and a bit,” he was saying, gently, as if words were stones and the woman in front of him a fragile statue made of glass (and truly, she could be, and Rictor found himself watching her for hairline fractures, waiting for the splinter that would turn into a crack that might turn into hysteria). “I’ll be back, it’s just a vacation—it’s been fucking years since I’ve seen home, you remember.” The summer light was dappling through the painted-glass windows of the church, turning the scene a strange warm red, as if viewing it through the insides of one’s eyelids. But even the Grande Cathedral—normally such a source of comfort and succour, a hard shell for protection—was starting to feel claustrophobic, strangling, a heavy itching weight on his skin and digging through to the bone beneath. The holy knight was rattled and rattling, a compass spinning without its due north: he needed realignment, and suspected the familiar haunts of Kerwon would provide it. Her digits encircled her wrist, skin white beneath the pressure - she was staring at him, holding perfectly still as if this were a mere reflection of her fears (notrealnotrealnotreal- until the train of thought drowned beneath the scrutiny if this church walls). "Years." The word had a monstrously hollow echo which threatened to splinter something inside further. Siri turned away, as if the physical gesture could set her right and shook her head: no, no you cannot leave. His touch loosened, as if the knight were trying to remind himself how to be gentle; he had been carved out of stone for so long, each minute since Taurus turning him more and more into an impassive creature as if he was being subjected to the slow, withering stare of a basilisk. At times, Rictor couldn’t remember how to be a hume anymore. “You weren’t here, but I went to Ordalia last year, just for a trip. This is the same. I’ll be back.” There was never any choice in the matter, Siri was selfish but her madness made her incapable of exerting that trait in the right moments. She could not latch onto the Holy Knight and plead for him to stay, and it was not unkindness that drove her actions either but pure anxiety. Being alone the first time had not been bad because she had not known what to expect, now that Siri knew what it was like — she didn’t want it, rejecting reality and clawing her way beneath to encircle the unfractured parts of her mind beneath dirt. “May Faram watch you on your journey.” (Or so Siri tried to say, but it came more like a string of incoherent words, pure madness but a clear goodbye — perhaps a “see you later”.) And Siri walked away because this time she didn’t want to be the one left behind, looking at Rictor’s retreating back. The deep ache that turned into a void, it threatened to swallow her — afraid, alone, lost. He watched her go, his stomach falling into the soles of his shoes. “She’ll get over it,” Rictor muttered to himself, feeling a sickening lurch in his belly. Caspar was here this time; he could take care of the girl. He would have to. Because fuck if Rictor Cassul was missing this chance to escape, to clear his head. He stood there, quite alone, until the sound of footsteps receded. |