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Post by Rowenna on Jan 8, 2007 1:01:20 GMT -5
Rowen gazed blankly at the copper coins in her hand, cold against her flesh. The last thing she felt was hungry. She worked the metal betwixt her fingers, and in a ringing clank, the coins flew through and and landed back in Saphire’s hand.
“That’s all right,” she said, quietly. “I’m going to look for Byron.”
She didn’t wait for him, hood going up and body gliding across the floor, leaving the Inn without another word.
The rain beat against her, and the pounding of the beads made the sound of the dancing waters against the ground, the sonancy of glass marbles falling over the wooden floor. She was blinded by rain, but she could not wait, could not last one more day not knowing. A single name was chiseled in her skull, drawn into her brain so that, no matter what, she could see it.
Byron... she thought. Only a child... can’t...
He couldn’t do it alone. He was a boy, just a boy, and could not survive without a mentor’s protection. He hadn’t learned everything she wanted to teach him, he wasn’t good enough to be out there so early. He didn’t hear what she wanted him to hear. He did not comprehend the life he was about to lead.
She dredged the streets, and boots sank into the mud; she went to houses, calling on their doors, calling for the boy named Byron Darc. Every face, every silhouette, every ghastly specter carried the like not of he--too old, too young, too fat, too weak and feeble and small. Every man who opened the door had never heard the name, never seen the description that escaped her lips, never knew the boy she tried to press into their minds--the person who would not leave her mind alone. He was not there. He was not there, he was not there, he was not there.
Not at the Inns, not at any room; not at the houses, leaning by a nook; not in the streets, struggling through the mud: he was nowhere.
And then she spotted the bar.
The thing stood there, a small and shabby shake that showed, by windows, the yellow heat, the roaring laughter low and muffled and invariably deafening inside. She walked, and not for an instant did she ever consider that, perhaps, it was wrong. Her spirit was nothing. Her spirit was dead. She went on, a wraith, through the doors, into the warm smell of sweat and the fat men gurgling beer and fondling women. She saw no one, only feeling the heat, the stench of ale living in the air, the dirt on her skin and her face and the filth all about her body. She bumped into a man, digging in his purse, but he did not see and did not care, drunk as drunk could be. The coins were thrown on the table.
The liquor touched her lips.
She drowned in it, breathed it, she swam in the sea of blood and ale, she let her lungs fill up and writhe and die. With every bit of hurt she drank, and in the drink, she sank lower, head swimming in intoxication and pain. The mug slammed on the counter, and she heard--something. It was the bartender, but his voice was indistinct and muddled in the cloud. At any rate, she hadn’t any money left, and she rose and stumbled through the masses of bodies and deep-throated laughter, and she quitted the pub.
Somehow, she managed to reach the Inn again, found a way to end up at the right door. Her cloak fell of her shoulders, collapsing on the floor, sopping wet. Her clothes were damp too, but she didn’t realize it. Inebrious, she collapsed into bed by Lerris, letting the intoxication do its work.
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Post by Lerris on Jan 8, 2007 1:38:18 GMT -5
Lerris let out a sigh as the coin reached his hand again, “As you wish…” He mumbled to Rowen’s back as she walked out the door of the inn. He wanted to stop her, to tell her there was no use looking in the rain, it would be harder to find him so late. But the elf knew there was no stopping her, not when he was still out there, so close…he hoped.
The elf moved up the steps, disappearing from the common room of the inn and towards the young man he had spoken to before. “Is this fitting Master Elf.” Lerris had not the ability to speak as he was so tiered, so he gave a wave to the man at the door and promptly shut it in his smiling face.
He unclasped his cloak, and threw it onto a nearby chair to dry overnight. The room was warm, as a fire had already been started in the hearth earlier, Lerris smiled at the bed. He undid several buttons on his shirt and pulled it over his head with a deep yawn. He fell into the bed, pulled the down over him and quickly fell off to sleep.
The morning came and went, and Lerris slept through it, unaware of everything going on around him. Around high noon Lerris finally stirred from his slumber. The fire of the previous night nothing but glowing embers, and when he opened his eyes he found Rowen asleep beside him, or was it rather….passed out.
The elf sighed, and pulled himself from under the blanket, she had slept in the bed soaked to the bone. He slipped over her and onto the floor, finding his shirt he slipped it on and with a final glance at Rowen he slipped out the door.
Ale, it was the very thing that had gotten him into this fine mess. It hunted all living things, as the wolf hunts it’s prey. Except this hunter kills you slowly, and you allow it, willingly. The elf shook his head as he found himself in the common room of the inn once more. Sunlight shone through the window, the storm was ending.
“Something to eat Master Elf?” Lerris turned, to find no one, until he looked down. It was a rather short golden haired woman. “Please…” The elf mumbled, “I am just Lerris.” The woman smiled, “Alright Lerris, I suggest a bit of roast duck.” Lerris smiled, and licked his lips. “Bring me two.” The woman smirked and hurried off.
Lerris found himself a suitable spot to sit, and leaned back in his chair. His mind drifted little away from Rowen, he was worried about her. Time past, and Lerris barely noticed the woman bring the two ducks to him. “Thank you…” He whispered almost to himself, she smiled and was off to other business.
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Post by Rowenna on Jan 11, 2007 22:19:22 GMT -5
Rowen moodily opened to her eyes to the throb in her head, insolent brain refusing to end the complaint of tiredness, of ache, of nausea. She was rendered nearly blind as she swung her arm over her eyes, giving a slight moan of complaint, then examining the status of her current situation. For a moment, her mind would not have it. Location, whether she was alive or dead, whether she was in heaven or hell--it was all a matter of circumstance. The mind refused to search as hard as she tried to care, the psyche loosed constraints on her ability to think, disallowing her to see into the past, to the present, to the future. What was yesterday? What was today? The season, the country, the shape of the moon? Which question was meant to be asked--or did they all really, immediately matter? None of them mattered, her brain told her. Nothing matters.
She removed her arm from her eyes and let her head tilt to the side. What was the cushion beneath her--what was that that came into her lungs and out? It was all a real and true mystery, and she wanted to care, but found she did not. At the very least, she registered what she felt. She felt sick--like she was going to retch right then and there. She felt tired, her body, especially her head, a lump of temporary stone. And she felt wet. Not soaking wet, but merely damp, cold on her pallid skin, beads of something slippery clinging on to her hair and scalp. And then she remembered the rain. And then, of course, she remembered everything else.
She let her body rise, the throb growing steadily worse, her breath heavy, her mind now remembering and sulking at that. Everything was gone--everything was absurd. Everything existed, and nothing existed--everything needed to be destroyed. The bed disgusted her, the very fact that it touched her made her wince in a boiling agony--the walls were worthy of a fist, had she the strength to give it. Her body was disgusting. It was dirty, and she didn’t know why. She straightened her legs and stood, taking a step forward--she needed... something. Space, perhaps. Something more than that crowded room, wherein everything crawled and latched onto her skin like spiders and sweat, where everything closed in and forced her to curl into the tightest object to avoid being touched. A step, and her foot touched the cloak from the previous day, and she fell.
Rowen kicked the wretched thing from her, emitting a loud grunt of anger at the abominable cloak, the one she had dropped right there the previous day. “Perfect,” she mumbled on all fours, head toward where the fire had been. The embers, glowing bits of coal, there, in a luminous red. She softened, but only lightly. Therein lay the only thing there wasn’t to hate.
Within the hour, she had the fire going again. It roared just as it did before, and it was warm, and it dried her, but that was not why she did not loathe it. She did not loathe it because, simply, fire was good. Fire destroyed. Fire made everything clean again, fire was what the walls should have been, the bed, the air she breathed. She relaxed, a little, and remembered... everything. The void took over her body, and she so wanted to let it all out in the form of ocean beads.
She trotted down the steps, still sick, still sad, still burning with an anger in her breast. He was gone, she told herself. No, she didn’t say that to herself--it was what she was told. It was what her mind said, again, and again, and again, and she wanted to scorch the voice with fire.
She didn’t know what she was doing--she wasn’t sure if she had spotted Saphire first, noted his location, and took the seat next to him--or if she was so out of it she let her body walk without her, and it was her body that recognized the elf, her body, independent of the mind, that took the chair there. When she realized what she was done, she looked at him, and not unfeelingly. She noted that there was a full duck in front of her and a full reconstruction of duck skeleton next to him.
“Thank you for waiting,” she said sarcastically.
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Post by Lerris on Jan 12, 2007 22:12:04 GMT -5
Lerris had watched her walk down the stairs from under his brow, and had shaken his head when he caught her eyes. She was drunk, or at least she had gotten drunk the night before and was now feeling the aftereffects of the previous night. He watched Rowen the whole time, as she sat or more or less fell into the chair across from him and spoke.
He sighed and sat back in his chair, “I hadn’t had a good meal in weeks, I would suppose you are lucky I did not eat both.” For some reason he immediately regretted the joke, and pushed the bird towards her. “You need to eat also Rowen.” He wasn’t sure if it was a suggestion, he was worried about her and almost demanded she eat something to help soak up the ale inside her.
The woman from earlier came and took the carcass of the duck Lerris had eaten himself, he smiled and offered her some coin from his pocket. “Thank you…” He whispered, the woman turned and looked at Rowen and then back at Lerris. He nodded slightly, and she gave him a smile and a nod and walked off without a word.
The elf looked back to Rowen with worried eyes, “You did not find him, did you?” In truth, Lerris wasn’t sure that he wanted her to find him. Byron had been nothing but trouble, he had struck her, if they did find him, Lerris had the right mind to strike him back. Of course he would never say this to Rowen, she loved the boy like a dear son.
He went silent, thinking perhaps it was to early to start his discussion already. He would let her decide if she wished to talk or not.
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Post by Rowenna on Jan 14, 2007 2:57:45 GMT -5
“No” she said in a quiet, almost hoarse voice, eyes drifting and momentarily dead. Her fingers traced the golden skin set before her for human consumption. She wasn’t hungry in the slightest, but seeing the full bird there filled her with obligation, obligation to the money spent, the use intended, and the motivation of said intention. She swallowed the miniscule bite, hard, not tasting, not savoring, filling the pit in her stomach. “He isn’t here.”
She fell silent. Her voice, her body, the chest that may or may not have been breathing, still in the hopelessness of everything, in the loathing of it all, including herself. I did it, she thought. If she were stronger, if she were wiser, if she were kinder, if she were better. What were the past three days? What were they for if they didn’t find him? Everything was almost a blur, save for the moments she had with her student. The moments she fouled up.
She didn’t know what do to. After all they had been gearing for, and in the short of success, there was a wall ahead were the road should have been, and she didn’t know how to get over it. That was what it boiled down to.
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Post by Lerris on Jan 14, 2007 3:08:50 GMT -5
The elf leaned on the back two legs of his chair and shook his head, “That boy is quite a bit of trouble.” Lerris took in a deep breath and exhaled as he spoke, “Quite a bit of trouble indeed, perhaps more then he is worth.” He sat down on all four legs quickly and leaned in across the table. “Maybe sometimes, it is better to let young ones like him go, those who wish to try and live on their own.”
He sighed then, and ran a hand over his tiered face. He knew that this wasn’t the best thing to be saying to Rowen, but he felt that he must. “Rowen, perhaps it is time for you to live a different life. You of all people deserve a quiet life more then anyone, If you would have me I would try and live that life out with you.”
He tried to smile, but the reaction, or what little there was, that he received from Rowen was very negative. Something he had almost expected, but told himself he might be able to overcome it if he showed her what trouble the boy had gotten her into.
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Post by Rowenna on Jan 14, 2007 3:30:07 GMT -5
A pang. Some spark in the back of her brain, a flash of fire, numb in the void of ale and brandy, but present in a fury that wanted to build, a fire in the midst of mud. The burn was present in the beat of her heart, a slow fire, but building.
Leave him? Leave Byron, a c*cky boy, a boy who thought he was bigger than he was--one that was going to openly defy authority as a living, no less--on his own? Her... it wasn’t just Byron. It wasn’t just a student. It was her student. Her... her Byron.
“You wouldn’t say that about yours,” she seethed, and said no more. She had already picked herself up and stumbled out the door, on to the muddy streets of yesterday.
The sky was gray. The sky was a light gray, the gray of metal and steel, the clouds having seperated to the point of light, but not the point of allowing any sun to break through that sky-mass of fog. The air chill, Rowen’s skin prickled and she walked right passed, knowing exactly where she wanted to go.
She wanted to drink. But more than that, she wanted to tear everything apart. She wanted to burn, let loose the fire that wanted to be, but everything was bottled, everything was chocked in mud, everything suffocated in wet rainwater wood. It was building with nothing to do with it. It was there, numb in her senses.
Her fist collided with the side wall to the pub. Her arm shook, and she at once seemed to realize what she had done. Her eyes shivered at the sight of her fist against the wood, the rain-soaked wood brittle against everything, including the force of a drunken fist. The wood was peeling under the weight and scratching against her skin, and her mind seemed to register... something wrong. Something wrong with the sight of a hand against the wood, something wrong about the destruction, or attempted chaos at that--and she didn’t know what. She just felt it.
And she still wanted to kill.
She entered the pub, the mass of dirty men and sleepers, the humid heat, the stench, the filth. One ale to drown the fire. One to drown the sorrow. Every subsequent mug to drown the previous touch of poison against her pale lips.
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Post by Lerris on Jan 14, 2007 4:49:42 GMT -5
Lerris sighed as Rowen stormed outside, he let his head fall to the table with a thump and just starred straight at the wood for several moments.
Mine? Fain left and Lerris had let him leave without much of a fight. The boy had his mind set on going, he wanted to go, to make a difference….to fight. He let his apprentice go, and he never saw him again, never will.
Lerris sat up, he had let go of his apprentice, let him leave before he was ready to part ways with him. Every apprentice became a master, it was just the way things worked, one could not stay so young forever. But now he knew, what he had said was wrong, Lerris had let go to early, and now he wanted Rowen to do the same.
The elf pushed open the door and headed outside, the streets as usual were busy. Lerris pushed his way through, men and women would stop and greet him. It seemed like his kin-folk spent little time here, and seeing an elf was quite an odd sight these days in Edoras.
Lerris tried to smile, tried to say as little as he could to the people so he could just go wherever it was he was going. He found himself drawn to a spot atop some large granite stairs of what he figured was the town center. The granite was warm from the sun, and was perfect for a spot to think.
He took a seat, and peered over all of the people going about their daily business. He closed his eyes, and tried to separate himself from all the people around him, he just wanted some time to think things over. He saw Fain on the backs of his eyelids, and at first he smiled. But then he saw the sword, the sword that ran him through and Lerris’ eyes shot open.
“I have been a fool…” The elf muttered to himself as he let his head fall into his hands. Now Rowen was gone, gone to who knew where and Byron was gone also. Perhaps she had gone off to drown her woe in ale again, or perhaps she had figured the elf had lost his usefulness and went looking for Byron herself.
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Post by Rowenna on Jan 20, 2007 15:56:00 GMT -5
The mug went to the counter, and a pair of stone gray eyes glanced about, fleeting to the bodies of other customers, barely able to catch the color of their backs.
“Philip...” she muttered lightly, the fingers still tracing the shape of the ale, the contours, the wood. “You there?”
She laughed lightly at the stupidity of herself, and the laugh became a whimper on the border of tears, and the whimper became the teeth that bit down, the soul that wanted to weep and the mind that wanted to stuff it all in and hold it there through clenched teeth. Her throat made a choking sound, and her fist gripped the mug till her knuckles turned white, struggling t hold it in, struggling to let it all out in a burst of tears and wretchedness. She squirmed in her seat, and motioned from her chair.
“‘ey,” the tender said, cleaning out a mug with a dirty, ratty rag. “You gunna pay for that?”
Her eyes widened.
... oops.
Her body was thrust from the bar, and her arms and her slanted knees collided with the muddied earth. Her palms were held just so, so that her fingers and the bulk of her hand never connected with the dirt. Her head swarmed. Her insides, churned, senses clogged and blinded and tied, and the blood all shot to her head. She was going to be sick--she knew that well enough, hating every living thing that stopped to stare at her broken body, or deliberately turned away from the sight. The only thing she could do was pick up the broken pieces of her dignity and retch somewhere else.
When she was done, she closed her eyes and let her mind ease in. Maybe that was why Byron left? ... God... God, she was a drunk. And to think, she had never realized it before.
There was only one thing, one thing she knew she had to do. She needed Lerris. She stumbled at first, and then made of a walk, steadier, over to the Inn they were staying. Maybe he was gone already. But it was worth a try.
Sure enough, her actions were not in vain. She made for the door, just as he did, and stopped in her tracks.
“Lerris...”
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Post by Lerris on Jan 28, 2007 0:35:32 GMT -5
Lerris finally built up the courage to stand on his own two feet and go looking for Rowen. The only problem was he had no idea where to start looking, so the best place to start was the inn where he had last seen her. The people were still running about doing there tasks for the day, and this time Lerris pushed through them all with out so much as a nod to anyone.
He was about to push open the door to the Inn when he found himself starring down at a familiar face. “Rowen…” He mumbled and took his eyes away from hers, for some reason he didn’t have the courage to look into those eyes right now. “There is something I need to tell you, to make sure that you completely understand. You know I had an apprentice once, and he left me, but not like Byron has left you.”
The elf took a deep breath, “My apprentice, Fain, did not leave me because of a dispute, he left me because he wasn’t willing to sit by idly with my kin and wait, or worse yet run.” Lerris’ hands balled into fists as he spoke, “I should of gone with him, I could of made sure…he would have been…alright.” The elf shook his head, “He went to war Rowen, he wanted to fight. That boy had more courage then me, he wasn’t afraid like the rest of us. He was killed on the battlefield, the last thing I said to him was….”
Lerris frowned, and looked up at Rowen, “I said… ‘Fain, no matter how many links in your mail you have, no matter how thick your shield. There is always a way in, and way through, the best defense is not getting hit. Good luck, my son.” The elf shook his head, “He looked up at me, and smiled, what I wouldn’t give to see him smile again. He said ‘Lerris, I won’t let you down, I will help these people. My life is but a twinkle in the eye of the being that is mankind, they need any help they can get.”
Lerris exhaled heavily, “It was the first time he called me Lerris, and now that I have finally thought about that day. I realize there is little else I could of taught the boy, and maybe now he could teach me a little something, something of courage. But that day now will never come for me, but it may yet still come for you, and I want to help you see that day….if you will have me.”
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Post by Rowenna on Jan 29, 2007 2:18:20 GMT -5
Rowen bit her lip and shook. He spoke, and she felt herself sink, she felt the fire build against the walls of her skin, burning the flesh, her face, the cheeks, her eyes, and the soul. The fire threatened to consume her, but it was not the fire of anger, no in the least. The words... so much to stay, so much to squeeze in an infinitesimal moment, she couldn’t draw it out--she couldn’t just explain everything, the words would trip and fall and tie, be rendered with no meaning. But then... there was no need to explain anything. The facts were clear for themselves.
Her rouge lips opened, and her cheeks were ruddy with shame. A syllable... the word stepped back in her throat, and she hesitated... and forced it out of the confines of her mouth.
“I’m a drunk, Lerris,” she said, she said it as though it was news to him--perhaps she didn’t realize he had the slightest inkling, perhaps she didn’t know that her body reeked of ale, that her apprentice knew it, that it was clear by the flask she carried with her to and fro in times not so far away. She choked on her words, and she dared herself not to cry though the skin beneath her eyes were red as though the tears had already fallen, were falling, that they themselves were invisible and running. “Every time something goes wrong, I crawl back into the bottle, every time I screw up, I...”
What more was there to say? What point was there in saying “ever since”, what point was there to say when I did this, this is why, this is what happened after? The words tied, the meaning, lost. There was nothing else to be explained. She was a drunk, even though she had too much pride to sink to the level. She was weak, though she so wanted to be strong. She had no control... she had none, even though it looked like it, like she controlled... everything. She tried to look at him, but felt her eyes drift deliberately to the wall of the Inn, somewhere harmless, somewhere safe. She felt her arms collapse at her side, and her head tossed slightly to the door, drawn face, pallid face, red blotches and blush.
“You can go now.”
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Post by Lerris on Feb 7, 2007 16:14:44 GMT -5
Lerris shook his head and smiled with forgiveness, the elf placed a finger under Rowen’s chin and lifted her eyes to his. “Any man who leaves after the first disagreement is a coward, and I promise you I am no coward. You’re beautiful Rowen, don’t hide such a face behind a mug of ale.”
With his index finger Lerris brushed her hair back and kissed her on the cheek. “Come now, lets go inside and figure out what we are going to do…together.” He pushed open the door with one hand and led Rowen in with the other.
The warmth of being inside felt good, and Lerris made for a table near the edge of the room and brought Rowen towards it. The same golden-haired woman came towards him with a smile, mostly directed at Rowen. “Lerris, welcome back.” Lerris smiled at the young woman, “Thank you, could you bring us something…anything.” The woman nodded, “I know just what…” The elf sat down and bid Rowen do the same.
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Post by Rowenna on Feb 12, 2007 17:53:10 GMT -5
Why?
She asked it, though she knew the answer herself already. She knew the answer like a card she slipped in her pocket, unwilling to check and questioning anyway for the sake of questioning; pretending the answer wasn’t really there because it was more convenient to her purpose. Why stand by someone who was a murderer, who was a dictator, who was a drunkard, who was a coward? It made no logical sense--that part was undeniable. If one could choose who to stand by, why not stand by the one who is pretty, meek, and mild--the young lady there, for instance, one of the passing faces on the road, a member of his own people...
Why?
Rowen deliberately turned her face from the young woman, taking a seat by Lerris. She didn’t know what she was supposed to say, she didn’t know what to say. She felt stupid, knowing that she had been willing to throw it all away, that she was the underdog being lifted up from the depths of mud and grime. Her hand touched her forehead and she closed her eyes as the woman disappeared behind a back room.
“Let’s talk about something else, Lerris... anything...”
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Post by Lerris on Feb 22, 2007 0:49:28 GMT -5
Lerris nodded slowly, and kept his head bent over. He wasn’t sure what else there could be to talk about right now, what could be more important? He sighed, and realized that no one should have to worry so much, for so long, an escape is what Rowen needed at the moment, and Lerris wanted to find a way to give her an escape.
The elf took in a deep breath, “I miss the days of when I was younger, perhaps…twenty years…in the lives of men of course.“ The elf wasn’t sure, but he swore he chuckled, just a little to himself. Maybe it was him trying to make himself feel better about talking about such an obscure thing, or maybe it was him trying with all his might to cheer Rowen up just a little bit.
Maybe it was both…
Duck was set before him, along with tea, and Lerris nodded at the serving woman. It wasn’t the same as earlier, so he tipped her and sent her off. The elf drank his tea slowly, and before he could get his thought out another came to him. “Is it improper to ask a human woman their age? I have never concerned myself with such a thing, but the Elfess’ I have met do not wish to ever talk about it. Although, I suppose most of them would have….thousands, if not more years behind them.”
He sighed, “I guess you would have a lot on your mind, after seeing and living so much…” Lerris’ voice trailed off, he wasn’t sure if this was the right subject to speak of now, of never-ending life. It was not as pleasant as some would think.
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Post by Rowenna on Mar 4, 2007 18:12:12 GMT -5
“I’m not that old,” Rowen lightly leaned her head toward Lerris, tilted lightly with a soft smile crossing over her face. She began to eat, slowly, pulling at the gamey muscle and skin of the bird and filling up her body with something solid aside the poison that leaked her pores. She wasn’t hungry--she was already full, in a manner of speaking, but the bird was a comfort to her, one she did not fully realize until she went through the motions. Her thoughts traced over his words, gradually leaving behind the world of yesterday, crossing over to a light on the other side.
“So, how long do you elves live anyway?” she asked, leaning back, a little light headed, like she were floating, like she were somewhere else and her body was doing its own thing, and her soul slowly sank back to its ground of flesh and bone.
She drank, and her fingers were white against the tin, skin against the battered and textured metal, hand bent so in an unconscious sophistication burned into her skull by a more free form of her juvenile years. She was conscious that the taste was unusual, unusual compared to what she knew only a short while before, as though she forgot the taste of what water was like, teas, or anything else of that manner. She washed her insides with it and looked to Lerris, earnestly, with a pair of wide, gray eyes.
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