Gareth took one last look at the dust that the mummy lord's heart had dissolved into. When it yet again failed to turn into any sort of vengeful spirit, dust devil or otherwise harmful entity he let out a long sigh. It felt almost anticlimactic, the end of such a hard-fought battle: though he preferred a nice, tidy end the whole thing made him just a little bit jumpy. Like there was another shoe to drop. Another enemy to fight.
He just needed to walk off some of his jitters. That was all. Zelly and the rest remained by the fire, warming up from the cool caverns. He found Winter idling in the hall, her hands running through her hair.
"Hey," he called softly, not wanting to startle her. From behind he reached out but faltered and let his hand fall just short of touching her. "How are you holding up?"
She turned to him, and it was clear something was weighing heavily on her mind, but she pushed forward a smile regardless. Some of the harsh lines that had been drawn on her face from the events of the day washed away, even if she still wasn't entirely at peace. "Ah, I have much to think about." She admitted, once she had turned to face him. Fussing with her hair, the little flowers and such that had been growing in it half faded away, not enough energy left in her to keep the lot thriving as she liked to.
After a second she stepped closer, her voice soft, her expression just a bit pained. She clearly didn't want anyone else to hear.
"I understand that," he nodded. "I hope you don't mind me standing with you," he offered, knowing she wouldn't. She was that kind of person: endlessly compassionate. He appreciated that about her. Gareth leaned against the smoothly-hewn wall, marveling for a moment at how precise the Dwarves had been even here, in this small exploratory offshoot of their kingdom. He blew another long breath out and did his best to relax. He tried.
And then Winter was right in front of him. How had he not noticed? He didn't think he'd even taken his eyes off her. But the surprise on his face faded and turned into worry as he returned her stare.
"What do you mean, Winter? Do you think we're not?"
"I don't know." She finally admitted after what felt like forever. Swallowing as she let go of her hair, then picked it back up, fussing with it anxiously. "I feel like we are-- yet we aren't." It was hard for her to explain to him, and she paced a little thinking her words over, only stopping near h im once more when she got her thoughts at least somewhat sorted out.
"I think stopping Varkosk is the right thing to do, he is hurting people, our friends people." A long moment before she finally spoke again. Her tone was different, small, almost timid, unlike her usual vocal self. "I just do not know if we can...
"I do not know if their brother can either, but I saw what he did to the Dwarves." Her face looked pained, and it became apparent she carried the weight of everyone they met on herself. Carried the well being of every party member on her heart. "I am scared that we are walking into something we..." She searched for the word, trying to find the proper common word before frowning. "Something we cannot do. Something that will kill us."
He waited for a long moment, agonizing over what her answer would be as he searched her eyes for the meaning. "Like we are, but we aren't," he echoed, and watched her with a worried expression on his face while she paced and thought it through.
"Varkosk or whatever it is, it seems definitely evil," he agreed. "Just the number of burnt villages we've passed would be enough to convince anyone of that."
He listened to her words without saying anything in reply, not until she was finished. On his face was an expression that made it patently clear he understood--more than that, he agreed. "I know what you mean," he said quietly. "It seems like just recently we were dealing with pretty mundane concerns, but now we're what, supposed to be facing down some kind of ancient evil?" he shook his head. "And at the same time we're pursuing a legendary necromancer Vampire. It just... things got so big so fast."
He couldn't lie to her. She would see right through that and besides, he didn't want to. The thought of lying to Winter made his stomach clench up, though he couldn't say why. Maybe she was just too innocent. "I... I'm not sure we can handle it either," he whispered.
She felt an ache in her chest grow-- some part of her had hoped that he would be more sure than she was, yet in reality that would be foolish. She didn't think of Gareth was a fool, perhaps he did things she didn't understand at times, but never a fool. Her stomach twisted as she pulled another few strands on her braids, pieces of it fluffed out here or there. Clearly, she had been pulling at it for a while.
"What do we do?" Her voice grew tight, but she forced herself to calm down, letting out a long slow breath. "I think even if I told them to leave, they wouldn't. Everyone is rushing into battle for revenge; but sometimes revenge is not worth it." She twisted a strand hard on her fingers, tugging at it.
"I could not even best my elder brother's in play, I do not know how we will fare against such a beast."
He watched as she unraveled, literally--hair twisting and frazzling. He hated it: he hadn't ever seen her like this, not even when Zelly was in trouble. He might have thought that she, not Victor or Marta, had endured a razing by a rampaging red dragon. He would have thought that it was Winter who was the small, scared child.
He felt just as strongly a desire to protect her as he did Zelly.
"If this thing is an ancient red dragon," he spoke slowly, "what does that mean? I've heard the stories, but I don't know how much of them are exaggerated and how many are simply made up." "Grumac and Orek's brother really thinks he can take it on, or at least we can with his help."
"Maybe he knows something we don't? Some kind of secret way to best the dragon, maybe."
"I do not know." She admitted after a long moment, "Reds are different, more warlike." She swallowed, staring at her feet, much like a defeated child. Swallowing as she thought it over, she glanced up. "The oldest I know is my mother, and I still do not know how strong she is." A few more tense seconds drifted by as she pulled at her hair. "There were fights before I was born, but my mother has always been keen on kindness, peace." She twisted another knot into her hair, one of the small flowers breaking free from the vine and fluttering down.
"I think he is a fool," she said, harshly, before she sucked in a breath realizing how harsh what she had said sounded. Even if she believed it, Winter was not keen on sounding so cruel when it came to others. "I think he intends to get us killed and claim the final blow, or he intends to worse-- simply go in and die.
"His arrogance and yet cowardice would make my father ill."
Gareth watched that small flower come fluttering down and come to rest on the floor, hopelessly cut from its base and doomed to shrivel. If it meant something he tried not to think about it.
His eyebrows shot up as he heard the harsh invective from Winter. It was barely cruel by anyone's standards but hers, but it was still an uncharacteristically mean thing for Winter to say, knowing her as he did. The magician looked at her in surprise, given no time to recover since her outburst. "You think he would do that to us? I mean, to his brothers? I can't imagine Orcs are any more willing to shed family blood than humans are."
He scrunched his face up and stroked his nonexistent beard. "I just don't understand it... none of this makes sense."
"I didn't want to think that..." She admitted gently, frowning at herself, being weighed down more and more with guilt, everything she said seemed to make her feel worse. Made her feel bad, for not thinking the best, not expecting the best of them all. "I do not know if you know, but Grumac told me his brother cast them out, claims they are less, that they are of bad blood." Her tone tightened, something she understood, in some ways, and could not fathom in others. When they had met the Orc's brother, it had confirmed it, in his behavior, in his odd ways.
"I do not want to think so." She swallows as she can't seem to meet his gaze now, too burdened with her own thoughts. "I cannot be so unsure, I cannot risk the lives of the people I want to protect, not for something I have no answers for.
"Even the way Marta looks upon them, with... with unpleasantness. Blood matter so much to so many." She didn't understand it, but sadly, she was learning it.
"You're right. That's the way of it," Gareth sighed. "Now that you mention it, blood has been a large part of all these messes we've found ourselves in. Zelly's blood, Vampire blood, and now Orc blood, or lack thereof." He frowned and set his chin on his hand. "I knew some cared, but I suppose I spend so much time around people who don't really mind it--you included--that I began to think no one did. Silly, I know."
He was an insulated kind of man: he knew that. He lived a relatively well-off life, in relatively safe areas, in the middle to upper crust. If Gareth hadn't embarked on this whole escapade he supposed his hands might never really have been that dirty. He could have lived his whole life that way, in a cushy magician's job making illusions for people. Or hired by some military mind. The thought of that made him sick.
"It seems strange to me, that Orcs would hate their own kind when they've become so sequestered," he murmured. "But maybe they need to find something to hate. "Or maybe they hate Humans so much that even a trace of their blood is enough to taint their fellow Orcs."
"I do not think it is silly." She pursed her lips, retorting a little firmly, but it's plainly obvious that that firmness isn't intended for him-- not really-- but more so directed at the situation itself. "Blood does not matter until these people make it matter." She seemed so sure of herself in this, as if it was just something she innately knew. Perhaps it was, or perhaps it was just another thing she was too naive to really understand. It always seemed to depend on who was asked.
"We could all live together with none of it mattering till one decided that they were better or worse for something we cannot really see." Blood, she supposed, could be seen. But she didn't understand what made Orcs brutes any more than she saw what was supposed to make humans so cruel. Some were good, somewhere bad, same as dragons. The one terrorizing them now only served to confirm that for her.
"I think it doesn't matter." She rubbed an arm, brows furrowing and painting a thin line between the red. "They hate because they want to hate. For all they will do, people will hate because they choose to." She tugged at her hair a little. "My father always said that hate was easy, I did not understand him, especially when he spoke ill of humans which my mother loved so much. But I think I do understand, at least a bit, now."
He watched her attentively, his eyebrows raised like he was genuinely interested in her perspective--which, of course, he was. Not only was she a valued member of his team and a friend that he considered himself close to, but she also hailed from somewhere completely different. Had a completely unique perspective. He found what she had to say fascinating and if he didn't agree with it, at least he was able to see the influence.
"Perhaps it doesn't," he supposed. "And I'm not so naive to suggest trying to change their minds. Any prejudices they have were surely developed over years if not decades, even from childhood--what good could we humans do in changing that?"
It was a bleak thought, and Gareth sat back against the cold stone wall. In the distance, back down the hallway, the distant sound of the fire crackling could be heard. If any of the others were talking, or even awake, he couldn't tell.
"I understand too," he said softly. "I understand hate a lot better than when I was with my teacher: I may have disliked her at times, or even despised her at the worst of it, I never hated her. Not until Zelly got hurt, and now I hate--" he clenched his fists, caught his breath for a moment and held it-- "now I hate whoever did this to her. She shouldn't have to go through all of this. It's not fair."
Winter thought about his words, all of them, for a long silent moment before she nodded. She too felt hate for whoever had done that, but more so, for anyone directly posing a threat. While she had been turned, it was not the worst that could have happened, as she learned and she was glad to have the girl alive and in her life. But more than she hated that vampire, she felt herself loathing Zelly's parents, as if they had performed some great evil that she couldn't put into words. Seeing them, speaking to them, all these times had filled her with such a great unease that the thought left a sour taste on her tongue.
"It is not fair." And her tone was surprisingly somber, as if the weight of it all was dragging the words off of her lips leaving them tumbling aimlessly in the air. "I find the world of man rarely is, in all that we have seen and done." A second or two passed as she crossed her arms, tucking them tight against her ribs, a subtle sort of self-comfort. The world of man had been as wonderful, and yet as dreaded, as both of her parents had warned her.
"For all I wish it did not happen, in some ways perhaps it is a blessing that in all the ways it did happen, it happened like this. That she found you, and the both of you found us. She is no longer alone in the world, and I think for Zelly that is all she wanted." A dry sort of breath, a few loose strands of red twisting and flicking upward before fluttering back down to rest against her cheek.
"I do not understand why this... creature has decided to mark Zelly as he has, but at least we are here to make sure he does not hurt her beyond that."
Gareth smiled ruefully. "Is the land of dragons any different?" Perhaps it was an even more idyllic paradise than he thought. "We have to elect arbiters and they're often corrupt, inept or worse. Maybe you dragons are more naturally born to order, because sometimes I wonder if Humans are."
For a moment he considered the different paths Zelia's life could have taken. After being bitten, if they hadn't rescued her from the caravan... surely she would have been brought to Garlyn. And if so, surely she would have been at his mercy. And then... he couldn't say. Dead? Locked away in a tower, like the heroine in her favorite play? Worse? It didn't bear thinking about, and he gave a shudder. "You have a point there. I suppose, as far as things have gone... we're very lucky so much has gone so well." His expression softened as he considered the second part of Winter's thoughts: "And I'm very thankful to you for being there for her. No one asked you to and yet you still sought her out to care for. In a way, you seem like an older sister or even a mother she never had."
He looked aside, feeling terribly awkward. Somehow the words had been simple enough in his mind, but when voiced they had a great deal more feeling behind them than he'd realized, and it had caught him off guard. He quickly spoke to change the subject.
"I don't understand either," he admitted. "But maybe if we get face to face with him--assuming he really is still alive--we can find out."
"I know I have a couple hard questions for him to answer."
"I don't think it is for all dragons as it is for my clan." She imagined red and green alone were the kind prone to bickering, to offering cruelty to anything not like their own kind, and haughty enough to even do so in some degrees to their own kin. She didn't go into that, there was enough talk of them already. "In my home everything is to do with the clan-- sure the elders have more of a say, in that they are greatly respected-- but the ideal of all is to do what is best for the clan." It was hard to explain, her lack of knowledge about the government and how human society was structured leaving her lacking the right words. "We all work together, do what we can, and what brings us joy. Sometimes it is difficult, but in doing what you need you have the freedom of a warm home and the option to do as you like otherwise.
"Perhaps we worry less about getting as much as we can, because we have so much longer to do so. There is no need to fight when you know that the others in your home will do what is best for you, simply because they want to see you do well. Just as when my brothers were older they tended to me, and I would to my younger brother, and he will to whomever comes after him. Sometimes it is difficult, but it is never without love. I am as much my mothers' child as I am my aunts, or our neighbors, or their neighbors. We are a family." The words rambled out as she struggled to explain the familial nature they shared even with those of different blood. It wasn't something she saw in humans; though it was something she liked to think they were gaining amongst their own.
Sometimes.
However, there was a pause as he continued, her face coloring, just a bit darker blue as she took everything in; but it wasn't lacking in warmth when she smiled. "I would be blessed to have a child like Zelly, and should she choose to stay it is all I could ask for-- and if not." A pause as she let out a breath, but it wasn't sad so much as thoughtful. "I will have been just as blessed to have her light for the time that I did, and she will always be in my heart." A hand raised up, thumping over her chest, something a bit tribal and heavy with feeling, radiating a familiar kind of warmth. The same kind that left her turning into a wolf and sleeping at the foot of the girls bed to keep her safe.
"Same as she is blessed to have you, as am I." A firm nod, and if what she said was embarrassing she didn't seem to think so. "Together we are all so much stronger."
"I really should visit, then," he reiterated wistfully. The idea of being with the Dragons, with a race so close to the origins and realities of magic... it was, as always, an attractive thought. More than attractive. Almost enrapturing. "All that and tight-knit too. I think Humans can stand to learn a lot from your people." He gave a sidelong glance down the hallway, but no green or dark-blue faces were peering down at them. "Orcs too."
He listened curiously as she explained the familial bonds between her clan: he did his best but some of it was difficult for him, foreign, even alien at times. He had grown up without any family to speak of, after all, his teacher the closest thing he had to a mother or a father or anything, really. And she had always established very clear boundaries.
"It sounds..." he struggled for the words. "Nice," he said at last, feeling how utterly insufficient the word was but unable to supply anything else. Even just saying it took a lot out of him, as if it had been a magic spell only barely within his ability.
He looked aside again, unable to meet her eyes. How was she able to so easily say such embarrassing things? He supposed it was the naivete in her he found so compelling, so endearing. So enchanting. Gareth reached out a hand and clasped her shoulder, squeezing lightly. Surprised at the cool feeling of her skin and her icy scales. "We are," he said thickly. "We are much more together than we were separate, I think." He struggled for another word. Just one. "I was so much less," he said, and could not continue.
Her smile didn't stop, even at his final words, instead, she beamed at him, even if he didn't have his gaze on her there was no hiding the feel of her smile radiating on him. "I think you did not know how much you were." She did not believe he was less, as he always had these things inside of him, else he would have continued along that other path given the chance. But he hadn't, he had turned himself over, allowed himself come to help them, and has gone out of his way to protect Zelly. Something that a man who was only out for himself would not had done, not when it was so much more difficult than just saving himself. "It is why I know I can trust you now, more than anything." She reached out, this time thumping him on the chest over his heart. "If you did not have the man you are inside of you always, you would not feel regret, you would not have changed, but you did." A firm nod, and perhaps it was just her being more naive, but she refused to think so. Gareth was a good man, she had seen how he had shed tears and been willing to shed blood for Zelly. Same as she had. Same as they both still would.
That did not come from nowhere.
"Perhaps you just needed to learn what kind of a good man you were." She offered gently, the warmth of his hand singing against her skin, such a contrast to the cool, smooth nature of the scales that protruded over her skin.
"I think my clan will like you." She offered gently, smiling as she gave his chest another thump. "Perhaps even Father."
He could feel her gaze on him, and just as soon as he could he turned to meet it. Her sunny expression warmed him and spread a small smile across his face, and Gareth did his best to steel his wavering lips. Today had been very, very trying. That must have been why he was so unbalanced, so wobbly. It was like his heart was navigating along a tightrope one foot at a time. "I trust you too," he managed. It was why listening to her request to spirit not only Zelly, but himself away in a moment of danger... it had been so hard. It still was, even just thinking about it.
Gareth startled at the sudden thump she gave his chest, and felt her fingers very keenly through his thin tunic. "I--" he started, but suddenly couldn't continue. Like a caravan traffic jam all the words stuck in his throat and not a single one could emerge. He looked away, shoulders shivering. His hand squeezed her shoulder strongly, maybe a little more than was comfortable, and his hand was the single steady part of his body. Tears came unbidden to his eyes and though he tried to restrain them, Winter just continued. It was hopeless. The warmth from her hand felt like it was spreading all through his chest.
The sorcerer tried his best to keep his face averted from her warm, open face. For some reason he knew he might fall apart completely if she met his eyes just then. It took him a long time to answer. Then,
"I would like that," he admitted, shivering, whispering brokenly.
The pressure of her hand against him lessened, easing up to match his on her shoulder before she leaned in, allowing herself to draw in. Perhaps it was improper, she wasn't sure, but seeing him with this kind of pain made her heartache in a different kind of way. She had meant well, and hoped he could feel as such in his chest. She really believed the things she said, and hoped at some point he would see himself the way she did. The way she knew Zelly would, as the others could were they able to look past themselves for a moment.
Drawing in it was like a brush of cool air followed by warmth, the light press of her against him, arms tugging tight, circling him with ease in the offering of a hug. It had been what her mother did whenever she had lost her composure as a child, what she had done for Zelly and what she felt perhaps Gareth needed. Part of her was beginning to understand that this was not something he had in his life, and what she did not know what that was like, she would do her best to show him he deserved such warmth as much as any other person.
She wouldn't tell him this, of course, she wasn't that foolish, but in her mind, it was already decided.
He wasn't quite watching--after all, he would have had to show his face--so it came as a surprise when she leaned in. He froze, his whole body tense, as Winter's slender arms curled around him and pulled him gently close. She was all warm and all cool at once: an odd sensation that made his whole body aware of her as if it too was trying to understand exactly what was happening.
Slowly, slowly Gareth relaxed. His own hands came up and awkwardly mimicked her movement, embracing Winter in turn. When was the last time he'd been hugged? He couldn't honestly remember. It felt very strange to him, so strange his heart wouldn't stop accelerating. He thought it might beat so quick and so strongly a hole might tear in it, and indeed his chest felt as tight as it ever had. It made his head swim.
He sniffed and did his best to keep the tears from spilling from his eyes. He so rarely had control over them once he began to cry, it was no surprise he did everything he could to keep them from ever starting. And he was usually--almost always, really--successful. So why was it so hard around Winter?
"Our stories," he finally said, tensing his arms slightly to hug her a little stronger. "I know lots of stories but I know they'll love the ones you're involved in the best. And we've got more and more each day."
"Our stories." She agreed with ease, if those were the ones he chose to tell she knew it would be just as good as the ones he dreamed up. She was fond of them, there was something comforting in listening to the way his voice carried on, painting pictures as his magic coiled in the air, creating the images as he spoke. She was sure her mother would be endeared to it at the least, and her younger brother too. Many of the youth in the clutch loved stories as it was, the idea of adding to them-- they'd probably never get enough.
"I think that is a wonderful idea." She hummed out, her arms following suit, giving him a bit of a squeeze before she allowed him to ease in or out of things at his own pace. She wouldn't force him to be in the hug with her, but she wasn't letting go of him either until she felt it was doing some kind of good. She hated to see the weight each of them seemed to carry, his more than most. And she was going to do what she could to make it a little lighter each day.
Her voice softened, barely a whisper as the two stood in the cold hallway. "I see such good in you, I promise. I hope sometime you see it as clearly as I do."
"Our stories," he echoed softly, affirming it. He didn't move, or perhaps he didn't know how to: embracing Winter seemed to have become his default state, the environment he was most comfortable in. Perhaps he'd forgotten what it was like to be elsewhere. Oddly, the squeeze she gave him felt like it put more air in him, not less; but then again, he was no expert on hugs. He wasn't even an expert on meaningful glances.
He didn't know how to face her words head-on. Sometimes Winter's wonderful naivete was worth a fond laugh, but sometimes it was more like a river broken through a dam: forceful, unrelenting, more than ready to wear away any opposition it faced. Right now he felt like he might be swept away if he heard it all at once, so instead he worked around the edges.
"You really are the kindest person I've ever met," he whispered as he held her in that ruined Dwarven rest. "I wonder that I ever found you--that you ever found us," he corrected. "I don't think I did anything to deserve it."
She huffed at him, something cool but firm enough to even ruffle a few of his hairs. "And what brought Zelly to me, but you." She reminded him, firmly, but warmly. Nodding a little as she let her breathing slow, allowing her heart to slow as his picked up. Forcing her body to relax, demanding it of herself just when she felt every breath grow warmer just from him being in such close proximity.
"Were it not for you helping her, I would have never met either of you." She smiled a little, and he might have felt it from where her mouth barely brushed the front of his tunic when she leaned in. "So it is your kindness we have to thank, Gareth." She reminded him, so sure of herself. "It was you, in all of this, that brought all of us together. Else such a job would have never existed, and none of us would have been drawn into fate as we have been.
"You saved her, and in that, perhaps all of us." A little nod. They had all been lost, looking for something, and now even though things were hard, each had found a purpose, or a goal, and that was worth so much to a man. So much more than gold or status. A reason to be, something to strive for, it was something every person needed.
He laughed slightly, a slight hiccup in it, and nodded. "I half believe you'd have found her without me," he admitted. The two of them were so close now, it wouldn't have surprised him if both contained some sort of magnet that attracted them both from far and wide.
Her breath warmed his chest--or was that his heart? It was still racing despite the moments that had passed with the two of them stuck together. And she was still talking. Still complimenting him. Still confronting him with a barrage of compliments, warm words, flattery he couldn't quite believe he deserved. Now the rushing river was assaulting him from all directions, unable to escape while he remained in her arms. So as warm as he felt, as soft as she was, as warm and yet cool--
Gareth stepped back and gently freed himself from her embrace. It felt like the hardest decision he'd ever made, but at the same time he knew he would simply fall to pieces if he had to face her words just then.
"Very kind," he said again, a phrase that had almost become a deflection. "But we haven't saved Zelia just yet. Once we find Dromak or whoever made her a Vampire, and we reverse the process--then we can say we've won."
Winter nodded, once, twice, and then paused. She felt far less warm without him resting against her but that wasn't to say it was the worst thing. She missed it, but understood. Many humans, she realized, were not so used to the open affection that she had grown up with. Instead, she politely folded her hands at her sides to allow him the space he may not have asked for, but probably needed.
"You are right, in many ways." After a second she allowed herself to lean a little more weight on one hip, pursing her lips. It was a topic she had wanted to bridge with him for some time, but she had never quite found a way to do it. Perhaps now was the best time, it would allow him some freedom from her other words.
He stood resolute and firm--and then she threw him for a loop. He opened his mouth and then closed it, his brain working to come to grips with the idea she'd presented him. What if she... didn't?
"I guess..." he finally started, still processing the question as he spoke. "I guess if Zelia--Zelly, I mean, if she doesn't want to change back..." he shook his head, still trying to think. "I guess I'd just assumed that she would, but now that you mention it... I'm not so sure. I mean, if it can even be done, which isn't necessarily a clear thing." he frowned and reached up to stroke his nonexistent beard, his eyes tracing over Winter as she leaned. He felt that he was more aware of her now than he'd been ten minutes ago, and he'd been very aware of her then. It was an odd feeling.
"I'm not sure," he admitted. "I don't want to force her, but if it's really the right thing to do... I'd hate to let her make a choice she'd end up regretting. But maybe we won't have to make that choice one way or another." He hesitated. "Do you think she might choose to stay a vampire?"
"If it could be done..." she trailed off, he was right. They had no idea if it was possible, but if it was she felt they needed to be prepared for all the possibilities. She knew they needed to talk now, which was better than waiting till Zelly was there and having an arguing it over in front of her. She had gotten hints that Zelly may not want to turn back, little notes here or there. She wasn't sure if it was because she really wanted to be a vampire or if it was because the girl found it was the only thing keeping her so special. It wasn't, obviously. But she was sure the girl didn't feel so confident in herself all things considered. Not with how her family had been and all the other talks they have had.
Maybe she would change her mind, but the truth of it was, it's possible she wouldn't. They needed to be ready for that.
"I think, sometimes." She nods gently, hoping telling Gareth this wouldn't make things more difficult for any of them. "I think we need to be ready for that being a possibility."
"If," he said, although he clearly hated saying it. If only it was certain. If only it was easier. If only Zelly's decision was foreseeable. If only... If only she'd never been put through all this.
Gareth leaned back against the wall, although perhaps it would have been more accurate to say he fell against it. There was a small sound when his head hit the coarse stone and he let out a small sigh. There was a long moment where he didn't say a single word: he just didn't know what to say. It seemed... "It seems like the problem just gets more and more complicated the longer we look at it," he said, and there was a tone of hopelessness in his voice. "Maybe I wouldn't care so much if it was a problem only I was struggling with, but... Zelia deserves better than all this." He gestured at nothing in particular.
"In a way, I wish she hadn't come with," Gareth admitted. "At least at home, she'd be safe. But I know she doesn't want that."
"I don't trust she would be safe at home, perhaps safer than this, but I don't know about safe." She didn't trust the General, nor did she really trust the King or Queen, one too rough and demanding, the other so helpless it made her stomach turn. If something were to happen to Zelly, she had doubts that the woman would intercede if the King did not wish ti so, and thus she would not trust either of them. She doesn't go into it much, but there's a clear flavor of distrust on her lips.
"I understand what you mean, though." She adds after a moment, this was not a safe place for Zelly, not a healthy place to be. All of them were in danger and it was the ugly, unflinching kind of danger. "But, I think this may be some of what she wanted." After a pause she deflates a little, shoulders slumping. "Adventure, a life outside of the castle. She is safer with you here, and while it is dangerous, at least we are with her rather than her going out on her own."
At least, that's how Winter had reasoned it with herself thus far.
"Maybe not," he admitted glumly. "It seems like there's nowhere that's perfect for her. Or even relatively safe for her." He held up his hands helplessly. "Or maybe we just haven't found it yet," he suggested. But he didn't sound so sure.
He listened, and he nodded, and he leaned back a little more heavily against the wall. "You're right," he sighed, and smiled forlornly at the pretty blue Tiefling. "As usual. If it wasn't with us, I'm sure she'd have found some way to get out and into trouble otherwise. And at least we care about her--we'll do our best to protect her. The others as well." It was touching to him how the party had adopted Zelly to be their metaphorical child. Even the rougher members of the party had come to cherish her.
Would Gareth have let her anywhere near two Orcs only a year ago? Not very likely.
"I just hope she doesn't get hurt," he said at last. "I'm not sure I could forgive myself."
"I don't think any of us could." A soft little nod as she allowed herself to turn, sliding backward so she could lean against the wall beside him. "Everyone here would die to keep her safe-- except maybe Viktor, and that's more than she's going to get anywhere else." As far as Winter was concerned, especially after Zelly's mother could barely be bothered to step out of line for her daughter. Something that Winter simply couldn't understand.
"I guess that means we all have to do our best." She murmured gently, her gaze sliding down a little as she thought things through. "Though, I'm sure we already are." A little puff of a laugh at herself. "I don't really know what else to say, Gareth." She turned a gentle smile on him. "I just hope at the end we're all where we want to be."
He turned his head towards her as if he was startled when she leaned back beside him, even though it was hardly a major shift. But it was closer than she'd been before, and it was something he noticed. Perhaps he was becoming oversensitive. Meeting Winter had made him very different indeed.
"It is," he agreed. "And I certainly would." He didn't have to wonder if Winter would lay down her life for Zelly: he knew it already and would have known it even if Winter had never even mentioned it. In fact, their most recent--and first--argument had been about that very fact, in a way. Gareth still wasn't happy about it but he had decided to hope it would never become relevant.
"I hope that too," he said softly. "Maybe that's all that really needs to be said." He hesitantly, gently set a hand on her shoulder, turning his head so he could look her in her eye. "And... I'm glad you're here, Winter. Wherever we end up, I hope I'll end up near you." What else could he say, when she smiled at him like that?
"If you want to, you will." And that's all she had to say on that, for the moment. It was hopelessly optimistic, at the very least, but Winter liked to imagine they would all make it out of there with the world open to them. Had to believe it because otherwise she wouldn't be able to keep pushing forward. She needed that optimism to keep her moving. And it had worked so far. Only on the coldest, darkest nights did she allow herself to worry otherwise. The truth was her heart couldn't take that kind of thought for very long. So she would cross her fingers and her heart that they would all end up where they wanted in the end.
"But," she paused, letting the moment hang briefly before she nodded firmly. "I hope the same, I really do."
Gareth smiled faintly, mostly because it was what seemed to be right. He felt a little sad, a little empty, but it didn't last too long. As soon as she said those words, I hope the same, he grinned just about as broad as he could. What did he have to be disappointed about? And if anything had been sinking his heart like a lead weight, well, it was gone now. "Good," he said, and it was just about all he could muster. Again his eyes were getting misty.
After a moment, and one last squeeze, he took the hand away from Winter's shoulder. Inside his clasped hand he could still feel the cool of her skin, the smoothness of her icy scales.
"I suppose we'd better get some rest before we have to move on," he said reluctantly. "Shall we head back?" He didn't want to--but he knew they had to. Whatever was coming next, it was big.
"You're probably right." She found that without proper sleep she wasn't able to get as much done as she wanted to. Always felt overly tired and like her magic wasn't quite doing what she wanted it to do. That wasn't the worst of all things-- but she always wanted to do her best, to be on her best for the people she wanted to help.
A softer, thoughtful smile focused on him before she allowed herself to give him a light thump on the chest. "Perhaps the Orcs will be sleeping deeply enough by now that their snores will not wake the dead, and all of us." A small titter of a laugh before she took the lead, her steps intentionally light, quietly leading the pair of them back toward the sleeping area. She didn't want to wake anyone, Zelly least of all. IT had been a long day and they all deserved their rest.
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He just needed to walk off some of his jitters. That was all. Zelly and the rest remained by the fire, warming up from the cool caverns. He found Winter idling in the hall, her hands running through her hair.
"Hey," he called softly, not wanting to startle her. From behind he reached out but faltered and let his hand fall just short of touching her. "How are you holding up?"
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After a second she stepped closer, her voice soft, her expression just a bit pained. She clearly didn't want anyone else to hear.
"Do you think we're doing the right thing?"
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Gareth leaned against the smoothly-hewn wall, marveling for a moment at how precise the Dwarves had been even here, in this small exploratory offshoot of their kingdom. He blew another long breath out and did his best to relax. He tried.
And then Winter was right in front of him. How had he not noticed? He didn't think he'd even taken his eyes off her. But the surprise on his face faded and turned into worry as he returned her stare.
"What do you mean, Winter? Do you think we're not?"
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"I think stopping Varkosk is the right thing to do, he is hurting people, our friends people." A long moment before she finally spoke again. Her tone was different, small, almost timid, unlike her usual vocal self. "I just do not know if we can...
"I do not know if their brother can either, but I saw what he did to the Dwarves." Her face looked pained, and it became apparent she carried the weight of everyone they met on herself. Carried the well being of every party member on her heart. "I am scared that we are walking into something we..." She searched for the word, trying to find the proper common word before frowning. "Something we cannot do. Something that will kill us."
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"Varkosk or whatever it is, it seems definitely evil," he agreed. "Just the number of burnt villages we've passed would be enough to convince anyone of that."
He listened to her words without saying anything in reply, not until she was finished. On his face was an expression that made it patently clear he understood--more than that, he agreed. "I know what you mean," he said quietly. "It seems like just recently we were dealing with pretty mundane concerns, but now we're what, supposed to be facing down some kind of ancient evil?" he shook his head. "And at the same time we're pursuing a legendary necromancer Vampire. It just... things got so big so fast."
He couldn't lie to her. She would see right through that and besides, he didn't want to. The thought of lying to Winter made his stomach clench up, though he couldn't say why. Maybe she was just too innocent.
"I... I'm not sure we can handle it either," he whispered.
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"What do we do?" Her voice grew tight, but she forced herself to calm down, letting out a long slow breath. "I think even if I told them to leave, they wouldn't. Everyone is rushing into battle for revenge; but sometimes revenge is not worth it." She twisted a strand hard on her fingers, tugging at it.
"I could not even best my elder brother's in play, I do not know how we will fare against such a beast."
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He felt just as strongly a desire to protect her as he did Zelly.
"If this thing is an ancient red dragon," he spoke slowly, "what does that mean? I've heard the stories, but I don't know how much of them are exaggerated and how many are simply made up."
"Grumac and Orek's brother really thinks he can take it on, or at least we can with his help."
"Maybe he knows something we don't? Some kind of secret way to best the dragon, maybe."
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"I think he is a fool," she said, harshly, before she sucked in a breath realizing how harsh what she had said sounded. Even if she believed it, Winter was not keen on sounding so cruel when it came to others. "I think he intends to get us killed and claim the final blow, or he intends to worse-- simply go in and die.
"His arrogance and yet cowardice would make my father ill."
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If it meant something he tried not to think about it.
His eyebrows shot up as he heard the harsh invective from Winter. It was barely cruel by anyone's standards but hers, but it was still an uncharacteristically mean thing for Winter to say, knowing her as he did.
The magician looked at her in surprise, given no time to recover since her outburst. "You think he would do that to us? I mean, to his brothers? I can't imagine Orcs are any more willing to shed family blood than humans are."
He scrunched his face up and stroked his nonexistent beard. "I just don't understand it... none of this makes sense."
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"I do not want to think so." She swallows as she can't seem to meet his gaze now, too burdened with her own thoughts. "I cannot be so unsure, I cannot risk the lives of the people I want to protect, not for something I have no answers for.
"Even the way Marta looks upon them, with... with unpleasantness. Blood matter so much to so many." She didn't understand it, but sadly, she was learning it.
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He was an insulated kind of man: he knew that. He lived a relatively well-off life, in relatively safe areas, in the middle to upper crust. If Gareth hadn't embarked on this whole escapade he supposed his hands might never really have been that dirty. He could have lived his whole life that way, in a cushy magician's job making illusions for people. Or hired by some military mind.
The thought of that made him sick.
"It seems strange to me, that Orcs would hate their own kind when they've become so sequestered," he murmured. "But maybe they need to find something to hate.
"Or maybe they hate Humans so much that even a trace of their blood is enough to taint their fellow Orcs."
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"We could all live together with none of it mattering till one decided that they were better or worse for something we cannot really see." Blood, she supposed, could be seen. But she didn't understand what made Orcs brutes any more than she saw what was supposed to make humans so cruel. Some were good, somewhere bad, same as dragons. The one terrorizing them now only served to confirm that for her.
"I think it doesn't matter." She rubbed an arm, brows furrowing and painting a thin line between the red. "They hate because they want to hate. For all they will do, people will hate because they choose to." She tugged at her hair a little. "My father always said that hate was easy, I did not understand him, especially when he spoke ill of humans which my mother loved so much. But I think I do understand, at least a bit, now."
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"Perhaps it doesn't," he supposed. "And I'm not so naive to suggest trying to change their minds. Any prejudices they have were surely developed over years if not decades, even from childhood--what good could we humans do in changing that?"
It was a bleak thought, and Gareth sat back against the cold stone wall. In the distance, back down the hallway, the distant sound of the fire crackling could be heard. If any of the others were talking, or even awake, he couldn't tell.
"I understand too," he said softly. "I understand hate a lot better than when I was with my teacher: I may have disliked her at times, or even despised her at the worst of it, I never hated her. Not until Zelly got hurt, and now I hate--" he clenched his fists, caught his breath for a moment and held it-- "now I hate whoever did this to her. She shouldn't have to go through all of this. It's not fair."
"And I hate anyone that threatens her."
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"It is not fair." And her tone was surprisingly somber, as if the weight of it all was dragging the words off of her lips leaving them tumbling aimlessly in the air. "I find the world of man rarely is, in all that we have seen and done." A second or two passed as she crossed her arms, tucking them tight against her ribs, a subtle sort of self-comfort. The world of man had been as wonderful, and yet as dreaded, as both of her parents had warned her.
"For all I wish it did not happen, in some ways perhaps it is a blessing that in all the ways it did happen, it happened like this. That she found you, and the both of you found us. She is no longer alone in the world, and I think for Zelly that is all she wanted." A dry sort of breath, a few loose strands of red twisting and flicking upward before fluttering back down to rest against her cheek.
"I do not understand why this... creature has decided to mark Zelly as he has, but at least we are here to make sure he does not hurt her beyond that."
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For a moment he considered the different paths Zelia's life could have taken. After being bitten, if they hadn't rescued her from the caravan... surely she would have been brought to Garlyn. And if so, surely she would have been at his mercy. And then... he couldn't say. Dead? Locked away in a tower, like the heroine in her favorite play? Worse? It didn't bear thinking about, and he gave a shudder. "You have a point there. I suppose, as far as things have gone... we're very lucky so much has gone so well."
His expression softened as he considered the second part of Winter's thoughts: "And I'm very thankful to you for being there for her. No one asked you to and yet you still sought her out to care for. In a way, you seem like an older sister or even a mother she never had."
He looked aside, feeling terribly awkward. Somehow the words had been simple enough in his mind, but when voiced they had a great deal more feeling behind them than he'd realized, and it had caught him off guard. He quickly spoke to change the subject.
"I don't understand either," he admitted. "But maybe if we get face to face with him--assuming he really is still alive--we can find out."
"I know I have a couple hard questions for him to answer."
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"Perhaps we worry less about getting as much as we can, because we have so much longer to do so. There is no need to fight when you know that the others in your home will do what is best for you, simply because they want to see you do well. Just as when my brothers were older they tended to me, and I would to my younger brother, and he will to whomever comes after him. Sometimes it is difficult, but it is never without love. I am as much my mothers' child as I am my aunts, or our neighbors, or their neighbors. We are a family." The words rambled out as she struggled to explain the familial nature they shared even with those of different blood. It wasn't something she saw in humans; though it was something she liked to think they were gaining amongst their own.
Sometimes.
However, there was a pause as he continued, her face coloring, just a bit darker blue as she took everything in; but it wasn't lacking in warmth when she smiled. "I would be blessed to have a child like Zelly, and should she choose to stay it is all I could ask for-- and if not." A pause as she let out a breath, but it wasn't sad so much as thoughtful. "I will have been just as blessed to have her light for the time that I did, and she will always be in my heart." A hand raised up, thumping over her chest, something a bit tribal and heavy with feeling, radiating a familiar kind of warmth. The same kind that left her turning into a wolf and sleeping at the foot of the girls bed to keep her safe.
"Same as she is blessed to have you, as am I." A firm nod, and if what she said was embarrassing she didn't seem to think so. "Together we are all so much stronger."
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He listened curiously as she explained the familial bonds between her clan: he did his best but some of it was difficult for him, foreign, even alien at times. He had grown up without any family to speak of, after all, his teacher the closest thing he had to a mother or a father or anything, really. And she had always established very clear boundaries.
"It sounds..." he struggled for the words. "Nice," he said at last, feeling how utterly insufficient the word was but unable to supply anything else. Even just saying it took a lot out of him, as if it had been a magic spell only barely within his ability.
He looked aside again, unable to meet her eyes. How was she able to so easily say such embarrassing things? He supposed it was the naivete in her he found so compelling, so endearing. So enchanting. Gareth reached out a hand and clasped her shoulder, squeezing lightly. Surprised at the cool feeling of her skin and her icy scales. "We are," he said thickly. "We are much more together than we were separate, I think." He struggled for another word. Just one.
"I was so much less," he said, and could not continue.
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That did not come from nowhere.
"Perhaps you just needed to learn what kind of a good man you were." She offered gently, the warmth of his hand singing against her skin, such a contrast to the cool, smooth nature of the scales that protruded over her skin.
"I think my clan will like you." She offered gently, smiling as she gave his chest another thump. "Perhaps even Father."
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Gareth startled at the sudden thump she gave his chest, and felt her fingers very keenly through his thin tunic. "I--" he started, but suddenly couldn't continue. Like a caravan traffic jam all the words stuck in his throat and not a single one could emerge. He looked away, shoulders shivering. His hand squeezed her shoulder strongly, maybe a little more than was comfortable, and his hand was the single steady part of his body. Tears came unbidden to his eyes and though he tried to restrain them, Winter just continued. It was hopeless. The warmth from her hand felt like it was spreading all through his chest.
The sorcerer tried his best to keep his face averted from her warm, open face. For some reason he knew he might fall apart completely if she met his eyes just then. It took him a long time to answer. Then,
"I would like that," he admitted, shivering, whispering brokenly.
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The pressure of her hand against him lessened, easing up to match his on her shoulder before she leaned in, allowing herself to draw in. Perhaps it was improper, she wasn't sure, but seeing him with this kind of pain made her heartache in a different kind of way. She had meant well, and hoped he could feel as such in his chest. She really believed the things she said, and hoped at some point he would see himself the way she did. The way she knew Zelly would, as the others could were they able to look past themselves for a moment.
Drawing in it was like a brush of cool air followed by warmth, the light press of her against him, arms tugging tight, circling him with ease in the offering of a hug. It had been what her mother did whenever she had lost her composure as a child, what she had done for Zelly and what she felt perhaps Gareth needed. Part of her was beginning to understand that this was not something he had in his life, and what she did not know what that was like, she would do her best to show him he deserved such warmth as much as any other person.
She wouldn't tell him this, of course, she wasn't that foolish, but in her mind, it was already decided.
"I'm sure they will love your stories."
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Slowly, slowly Gareth relaxed. His own hands came up and awkwardly mimicked her movement, embracing Winter in turn. When was the last time he'd been hugged? He couldn't honestly remember. It felt very strange to him, so strange his heart wouldn't stop accelerating. He thought it might beat so quick and so strongly a hole might tear in it, and indeed his chest felt as tight as it ever had. It made his head swim.
He sniffed and did his best to keep the tears from spilling from his eyes. He so rarely had control over them once he began to cry, it was no surprise he did everything he could to keep them from ever starting. And he was usually--almost always, really--successful.
So why was it so hard around Winter?
"Our stories," he finally said, tensing his arms slightly to hug her a little stronger. "I know lots of stories but I know they'll love the ones you're involved in the best. And we've got more and more each day."
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"I think that is a wonderful idea." She hummed out, her arms following suit, giving him a bit of a squeeze before she allowed him to ease in or out of things at his own pace. She wouldn't force him to be in the hug with her, but she wasn't letting go of him either until she felt it was doing some kind of good. She hated to see the weight each of them seemed to carry, his more than most. And she was going to do what she could to make it a little lighter each day.
Her voice softened, barely a whisper as the two stood in the cold hallway. "I see such good in you, I promise. I hope sometime you see it as clearly as I do."
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He didn't know how to face her words head-on. Sometimes Winter's wonderful naivete was worth a fond laugh, but sometimes it was more like a river broken through a dam: forceful, unrelenting, more than ready to wear away any opposition it faced. Right now he felt like he might be swept away if he heard it all at once, so instead he worked around the edges.
"You really are the kindest person I've ever met," he whispered as he held her in that ruined Dwarven rest. "I wonder that I ever found you--that you ever found us," he corrected. "I don't think I did anything to deserve it."
"Zelly must have."
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"Were it not for you helping her, I would have never met either of you." She smiled a little, and he might have felt it from where her mouth barely brushed the front of his tunic when she leaned in. "So it is your kindness we have to thank, Gareth." She reminded him, so sure of herself. "It was you, in all of this, that brought all of us together. Else such a job would have never existed, and none of us would have been drawn into fate as we have been.
"You saved her, and in that, perhaps all of us." A little nod. They had all been lost, looking for something, and now even though things were hard, each had found a purpose, or a goal, and that was worth so much to a man. So much more than gold or status. A reason to be, something to strive for, it was something every person needed.
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Her breath warmed his chest--or was that his heart? It was still racing despite the moments that had passed with the two of them stuck together. And she was still talking. Still complimenting him. Still confronting him with a barrage of compliments, warm words, flattery he couldn't quite believe he deserved. Now the rushing river was assaulting him from all directions, unable to escape while he remained in her arms. So as warm as he felt, as soft as she was, as warm and yet cool--
Gareth stepped back and gently freed himself from her embrace. It felt like the hardest decision he'd ever made, but at the same time he knew he would simply fall to pieces if he had to face her words just then.
"Very kind," he said again, a phrase that had almost become a deflection. "But we haven't saved Zelia just yet. Once we find Dromak or whoever made her a Vampire, and we reverse the process--then we can say we've won."
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"You are right, in many ways." After a second she allowed herself to lean a little more weight on one hip, pursing her lips. It was a topic she had wanted to bridge with him for some time, but she had never quite found a way to do it. Perhaps now was the best time, it would allow him some freedom from her other words.
"What if Zelly does not wish to turn back?"
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"I guess..." he finally started, still processing the question as he spoke. "I guess if Zelia--Zelly, I mean, if she doesn't want to change back..." he shook his head, still trying to think. "I guess I'd just assumed that she would, but now that you mention it... I'm not so sure. I mean, if it can even be done, which isn't necessarily a clear thing." he frowned and reached up to stroke his nonexistent beard, his eyes tracing over Winter as she leaned. He felt that he was more aware of her now than he'd been ten minutes ago, and he'd been very aware of her then. It was an odd feeling.
"I'm not sure," he admitted. "I don't want to force her, but if it's really the right thing to do... I'd hate to let her make a choice she'd end up regretting. But maybe we won't have to make that choice one way or another." He hesitated. "Do you think she might choose to stay a vampire?"
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Maybe she would change her mind, but the truth of it was, it's possible she wouldn't. They needed to be ready for that.
"I think, sometimes." She nods gently, hoping telling Gareth this wouldn't make things more difficult for any of them. "I think we need to be ready for that being a possibility."
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If only she'd never been put through all this.
Gareth leaned back against the wall, although perhaps it would have been more accurate to say he fell against it. There was a small sound when his head hit the coarse stone and he let out a small sigh. There was a long moment where he didn't say a single word: he just didn't know what to say. It seemed...
"It seems like the problem just gets more and more complicated the longer we look at it," he said, and there was a tone of hopelessness in his voice. "Maybe I wouldn't care so much if it was a problem only I was struggling with, but... Zelia deserves better than all this." He gestured at nothing in particular.
"In a way, I wish she hadn't come with," Gareth admitted. "At least at home, she'd be safe. But I know she doesn't want that."
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"I understand what you mean, though." She adds after a moment, this was not a safe place for Zelly, not a healthy place to be. All of them were in danger and it was the ugly, unflinching kind of danger. "But, I think this may be some of what she wanted." After a pause she deflates a little, shoulders slumping. "Adventure, a life outside of the castle. She is safer with you here, and while it is dangerous, at least we are with her rather than her going out on her own."
At least, that's how Winter had reasoned it with herself thus far.
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He listened, and he nodded, and he leaned back a little more heavily against the wall. "You're right," he sighed, and smiled forlornly at the pretty blue Tiefling. "As usual. If it wasn't with us, I'm sure she'd have found some way to get out and into trouble otherwise. And at least we care about her--we'll do our best to protect her. The others as well." It was touching to him how the party had adopted Zelly to be their metaphorical child. Even the rougher members of the party had come to cherish her.
Would Gareth have let her anywhere near two Orcs only a year ago? Not very likely.
"I just hope she doesn't get hurt," he said at last. "I'm not sure I could forgive myself."
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"I guess that means we all have to do our best." She murmured gently, her gaze sliding down a little as she thought things through. "Though, I'm sure we already are." A little puff of a laugh at herself. "I don't really know what else to say, Gareth." She turned a gentle smile on him. "I just hope at the end we're all where we want to be."
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"It is," he agreed. "And I certainly would." He didn't have to wonder if Winter would lay down her life for Zelly: he knew it already and would have known it even if Winter had never even mentioned it. In fact, their most recent--and first--argument had been about that very fact, in a way. Gareth still wasn't happy about it but he had decided to hope it would never become relevant.
"I hope that too," he said softly. "Maybe that's all that really needs to be said." He hesitantly, gently set a hand on her shoulder, turning his head so he could look her in her eye.
"And... I'm glad you're here, Winter. Wherever we end up, I hope I'll end up near you."
What else could he say, when she smiled at him like that?
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"But," she paused, letting the moment hang briefly before she nodded firmly. "I hope the same, I really do."
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"Good," he said, and it was just about all he could muster. Again his eyes were getting misty.
After a moment, and one last squeeze, he took the hand away from Winter's shoulder. Inside his clasped hand he could still feel the cool of her skin, the smoothness of her icy scales.
"I suppose we'd better get some rest before we have to move on," he said reluctantly. "Shall we head back?"
He didn't want to--but he knew they had to. Whatever was coming next, it was big.
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A softer, thoughtful smile focused on him before she allowed herself to give him a light thump on the chest. "Perhaps the Orcs will be sleeping deeply enough by now that their snores will not wake the dead, and all of us." A small titter of a laugh before she took the lead, her steps intentionally light, quietly leading the pair of them back toward the sleeping area. She didn't want to wake anyone, Zelly least of all. IT had been a long day and they all deserved their rest.