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Date Posted: 23:50:55 03/03/02 Sun
Author: Laurel
Subject: Never
In reply to: Erlic Eastlore 's message, "Afraid of the dark?" on 16:17:08 03/03/02 Sun

Laurel sat on the stony ground of the ruined temple, braiding her thick, reddish orange hair behind her back. Dirt and soot smudged her pale cheeks and forehead, but her eyes glowed their usual fierce green. Her bow lay in her lap, and one remaining magelight whirled above her head, the relief she felt at having to only maintain one unnoticeable in the straight, firm set of her shoulders.

As soon as the healer had turned away from her brother, she had approached him, inquiring about the injury. Valhorek had assured her that Rowan would be fine, so long as everything continued to go well, and she was too practical to consider worrying over the matter any longer. She loved her younger twin with a fierce protectiveness, but had seen him overcome far worse difficulties than this so that she was nearly desensitized to the feeling.

Her eyes were on Erlic and Jade, the woman pulling her friend by the hand toward the dark opening leading below ground, where Marz and Tristan stood, while Ravin sat perched nearby on the stone altar. Erlic seemed almost mesmerized by their newest companion, surrendering his usually stiff manner to her wilder, rambunctious disposition.

She had tried so hard to release his spirit like that, to make his eyes shine with subtle joy and curiosity. Perhaps she had come close when they had raced to Kazabet’s stables and taken the horses for a frantic race through the desert ruins, but the moment had been eclipsed by the dour appearance of the two ghosts from their pasts.

Briefly, she acknowledged that something inside her was hurting. That since the knowledge of the massacres at the tavern, he had not spoken one word to her—and that he seemed to be willingly turning to this new woman, this girl really, though Laurel only termed her as such to reflect her seemingly wild, carefree nature. She liked Jade already, and silently commended her on capturing his attention. Yet it hurt her to see the tiny spark that had already ignited between them.

Miss. Goldleaf, could it be that your heart has come so close to breaking?

She smiled at the implications of her haughty, inner voice. Perhaps so. Always before she had cut off her associations with lovers who had begun to become too dear to her. She had done the same with Erlic, but had almost been too late. She forced herself to applaud her actions, since it appeared that her need for him had been one-sided.

Automatically, her eyes turned to Argus, and she again remembered Isobel remarking that the young man with the heavy accent and dark hair had something of a crush on her. She didn’t know what to do with this knowledge anymore, as if her courtly flirtatious nature had become suddenly alien to her. All she could think about was how ill-suited this lifestyle was to her, and how she was determined to adapt to it, to braid her hair behind her back and become a warrior with her companions. If her heart could be so cold, she supposed, so too could she become cold and wise in battle.

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