Gareth touched his face, his fingers stroking along the new ridges and rough patches the fire had left. The burn extended from the bottom of his chin to his cheekbone, then sloped slightly away to end beside his eye, miraculously missing both his eyeball and the ear past it. The mark was the kind of thing you could miss completely if you looked at him from just the right angle, and yet from the opposite direction dwarfed the whole of his face--until all he was, all he looked like, cauterized and stretched and spiderwebbed.
Gareth dropped his fingers away from the marks, and it was clear it took a great deal of effort for him to do so. There was a kind of fascination in his inspection, like even he couldn't believe one side of his face had changed so much. As if, perhaps, continuing inspection would show him something new and interesting about the marks. A new tic he'd developed. Fascination would be the right word for it; instead of cringing away from the burning trees he'd conjured in front of the manor just earlier that day--or for that matter, creating a less frightening illusion--there had been a kind of deadly interest in his gaze when he'd stared at his creation.
The magician's eyes flicked upwards as a new shout filled the air, too far to be immediately dangerous but potentially troublesome if it moved clearer. Suzail was like a whole different city with the Paladin order on the move: the customary hustle-and-bustle of the place had been replaced by occasional yelling, pleading, gruff orders barked, and an underlying silence that was somehow worse. Not that they needed any audio cues to remind them of the city's sinister shift. The slightly smoking crater, as large as a barn and half as deep, remnant of Gorman's workshop, sat right in front of them like a sullen glare.
"I was rushing to get to the manor in time," Gareth remarked offhandedly to Winter beside him. His eyes tracked Zelly as she, in her still-childlike way, attempted to distract Gorman with chatter. "But I think you had it handled without me." "Still... it's good to see you. It hasn't been that long, but it sure feels like it."
There was no missing the marks on his visage, she had seen it enough-- known it well enough by now, that it was like looking at someone new. Not that his face wasn't identifiable-- but it wasn't the same as the one she knew. It was Gareth, and yet it wasn't. Like someone wearing a mask that was a near perfect replica, but the one flaw threw the whole thing into confusion. She'd feel the same if she'd approached him and he suddenly had yellow eyes. It would be him, but not. It seemed he was as interested as she was, however, if the way he seemed to touch his face any time he was not consciously forcing his hands to do something else was to go by.
"Your help is always valuable, Gareth." She reminded him, some small part of her thinking perhaps he needed to hear it. To know it. Though after recent events she wondered if he believed it. Still, she would say it, because she believed it. "Though, thankfully, we were able to handle the insufferable man for now." She pursed her lips a little. It had been more dangerous than that, more than she was happy with but...
She wasn't sure if she wanted to tell him how dangerous.
"It is always good to see you." She answered, simply, as if it was something one just said offhand. But for her, it was that easy, as it was the truth. He was a friendly face that she was fond of, there was no doubt of that. But beyond that, she had wondered, if briefly, she would. When he had been gone for some time, lost to the city after the dragon she had wondered if he had fled. Not that she still thought him that kind of man, but because if it was the best for Zelly or any of them, she knew he might. She knew, all the same, she would too if it kept them safe. An odd, unfounded, fleeting fear that still somehow managed to make her heart heavy.
"Perhaps the looming danger makes time feel so much longer." She half-joked, though there was a little tightness to the tone. Even Winter wasn't oblivious to the seriousness of their situation.
He smiled slightly at her reassurance, and he nodded. "I'm glad," Gareth said simply, and stood from his squat. His eyes fell on her and it was clear, much as it was obvious that something was different about him, something had shifted in how he looked at her. If at first Gareth's eyes had held mistrust then curiosity, and later a certain trust when he faced Winter's yellow orbs... now there was something mixed in them, something complex that couldn't be boiled down to a single emotion. It was a more mature expression he wore, and in fact it seemed as if his troubles--whatever they had been--had aged him a great deal.
"Insufferable is right," he agreed with a small smirk. "Good to have someone like him to face, don't you think? No moral qualms about whether he's in the right or the wrong here. At least I don't have any." "Does anyone in the group...?" he asked curiously, the magician's eyebrows raised in an expression of interest. "I wonder where Damiano's allegiance would have fallen."
He turned aside for just a moment when she graced him with those words, his face hidden for only a second or two before he faced her with a look of obvious gratitude. If he'd had time to moderate or change his expression from the initial surprise of her honest, meaningful confession, no trace of the look it had once been remained on his face. All that was left was camaraderie and an appreciation for her kindness. "Agreed," he said, the words a little harder to come by for him than they had been for her, but at least he was able to say them. That too had changed, if only a little. "I was worried about all of you, with all of this going on. You especially."
"It does," he agreed, smiling sadly at the joke she'd made. "The past few days have felt like the longest of my life." He considered the memories for a moment, looking down at the loosely-cobbled ground, then shook his head and raised his gaze again.
"Might I... see that white branch again?" Gareth asked.
"Not after he attacked our home." She said plainly, though she doubted anyone had reservations about him, to begin with. She had, in fact, disliked him for some time. There was something about him that just did not sit right in her stomach. At the time she had dismissed it; perhaps it was unfamiliarity, but now she was glad to have not trusted him with anything. If he knew about Zelly, or anyone else, it may have been worse.
After a pause, her fingers tightened and then relaxed, as if she had managed to actually bite back the urge to say something, though what came after was no less scathing. "I think him not being here tells us exactly where it fell." The idea of betrayal wasn't unfamiliar to her, not that she had experienced it often. But their adventures, and those vampiric children had taught her much more than she let on.
"The worry was mutual." She reached to her side, the soft leather bag hanging there pulled open, digging through it a bit before she retrieved the white branch. It was small, but pretty, she thought. The kind of thing she might have weaved in her hair if she wasn't so unsure what it was for-- or where it really came from. There was no hesitation when she held it out to him; though she wasn't sure if he could take it. She had tried to give it to him before, but it hadn't worked. Perhaps it was in the intent?
She wasn't too worried, she'd hold it out as long as he needed her to.
"My father had always told me tales like this, humans after each other, but I... I did not think I would ever really see it."
"Well, that is a good point," Gareth admitted sheepishly and looked like he was about to raise his hand to his face again--his fingers outstretched, ready to trace along the uneven patterns of his burn--but stopped himself and dropped the hand. His grin faded, however, when he heard her reaction to Damiano's departure. "Perhaps he split when the designs of the Church became more obvious," he suggested, but didn't look much convinced himself. After all, "His adoration of Percival kind of knocks a hole in that theory, though." Gareth shrugged. Clearly his tolerance for betrayal was greater than Winter's... or perhaps he'd never trusted the Paladin completely. Now it was just a foregone conclusion.
"It was touch-and-go for a moment or two there," he admitted. "You were right to be worried. But I managed to come out with only this." He pointed to the swathe of scars on the left side of his face. "I'd say it's a fair trade for my life. As long as it doesn't hurt my looks too much."
He didn't take the branch when she offered it; after all, their previous attempts had ended in an embarrassing failure, like the Gods themselves had been chuckling at his naivete. Instead Gareth simply looked at it, inspecting it from every angle, then nodded and leaned on back. The look in his eyes when they were filled with the divine symbol had lost some of the raw, open hurt and soft sadness had replaced it. Gareth seemed like he was deep in thought until she spoke, and then slowly came from it to look at her again.
"Hm? Oh, it's more common than you might think. Humans fight with each other over the silliest things. Whose sheep are whose, where your land ends and mine begins, whether your queen is the right queen..." he shrugged. We're our own worst enemies. And people have always been afraid of mages, so I suppose this was a long time coming." He snorted. "They should have known we'd fight back. I just don't know what the plan is: no one's coming out of this without injuries." And this time he didn't catch his own hand when it rose up to trace his burn.
She didn't hide the way she looked at his face when he went to touch it and stopped himself; it wasn't disgust, or upset, but just openly curious. His reaction to it was different than she expected-- but perhaps she understood him less than she thought. She was learning more about humans every day; she didn't know why she could think she had a firm grasp on Gareth of all people. He had been tricky when they first met, but part of her felt that had changed, even if everything didn't always feel laid out on the table for her.
"You know." She began, casually though it wasn't the same as her normal tone. As if she was attempting to word things correctly, yet pass it off as casual. Not inherently dishonest, but not as off the cuff as she hoped to sound. "My father has many scars." A nod as she glanced toward the sky, not avoiding his gaze so much as thoughtful. Watching the clouds as if they might bless her with an answer. "Some on his face, like you. And still my mother looks at him with such--" She squeezed her hands shut tight, and then opened them, lacking the words to express that kind of raw emotion and instead hoping Gareth could just follow her intent. "Perhaps it is not favorable," she admitted, not blind to the negatives entirely. "But these scars do not change your heart."
That she was firm on.
It took her a few seconds to recover in the conversation, continuing it gently, her mind still stuck on her struggle to express her emotions properly.
"Perhaps he thinks himself so strong that he doesn't care about us fighting back. It will be his second biggest mistake."
He raised his eyebrows and looked at Winter, recognizing by her tone that whatever she was about to say had importance to it. After all, when did Winter pause for the right way to say something? She was always so certain of what she meant, so blunt and clear. Only word choice would trip her occasionally. So he listened. Listened carefully, and with every word his cheeks grew a little redder.
He looked away the same way she had, but his reason was clearly to avoid her gaze, avoid further embarrassment. "Well, I..." he coughed lightly, and this time he was having difficulty finding the right words. But at least that was in character for him. "I wasn't really expecting a straight-on response to that, I guess. I know it doesn't make me look any more handsome, not that I've ever thought I was..." he shook his head, trying to stay on-topic. And now he checked his words very carefully, tread extremely softly. "Your father's a very lucky man, if you and your mother share much in common."
He looked over at Zelly for a moment, enjoying the sight of her entertaining Gorman with some kind of story that involved her spreading her arms out wide, wide, wide. "Perhaps he does," he answered her. "Percival has always seemed pretty full of himself. But all this, still... it doesn't feel quite right."
"I can't help but wonder if there's something going on here we're not seeing." And his eyes drifted slowly to her backpack, where the branch poked ever so slightly free.
"Sometimes you are so smart, and yet so dumb." Classic Winter, the words spilled out just how he thought-- though this time even she had the awareness to frown at herself. "Clearly you are handsome." That was just a fact, right? Objectively, she might have said, if she knew how to phrase it. "Perhaps you are too busy thinking about magic, but I have seen the way many women have looked at you on our travels." A puff of air. Jealousy? Maybe. It was hard to tell, though her comment was in earnest. Whys he noticed, perhaps, was another story.
Not that she dwelled on it much. "My mother is much wiser than I could ever hope to be, beautiful too." And there was no self-deprecation in these statements; it was clear there was a sort of adoration there toward her mother. She thought the woman as wise as she was beautiful. To Winter it was just another fact.
She followed his gaze, as best she could, however, it took her a few more moments to put things together than it had for him. "Do you think the things we received are related?" She hadn't thought about it at all, admittedly, but the timing did seem suspect.
Not that it made her like him any more than she had. Paladins, she had decided, were far more creatures of their whims than she had first been lead to believe.
He raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth, ready to retort with incredulity--but her honest words brought him up short and sent a blush to his face once more. He looked away, then back, then away again, a new expression on his face each time, then finally settled on embarrassed curiosity. "Thank you. I mean, they did? Who?" But he waved away the question as soon as he said it. "Never mind." It didn't matter, after all: he hadn't been looking at them, and there was no one they'd met on their travels he would have particularly cared about if they had. There was only one woman--
"I won't deny you could stand to learn a little more worldliness," he teased her with a gentle smile, his ability to play along clearly improved by the week or so he'd spent apart from the group. "But you're a lot wiser than I think you give yourself credit for. And a lot more beautiful." He met her gaze openly, and although his cheeks held a faint tinge of red in them it was clear his ability to pay compliments had made great strides as well.
"I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe it's suspect to me because I just got here and everything is happening at once, or maybe I'm just not seeing the whole picture. If there's one thing Gods have to have, it's perspective. So maybe the whole Church going crazy is a little bump to them where to us it's a mountain." He shrugged helplessly. "It's all a little out of my expertise."
A brief shout rose in the town, then fell. Another group apprehended by the Paladins, perhaps, or a fight erupting. He fidgeted, stroking his burned chin. "Waiting here is making me antsy," he sighed. "But it's worse knowing you're going to have to fight him without me." And the look on his face was miserable.
She softened, visibly, tipping her head toward him with a soft 'Thank you'. She wasn't absent of mind enough to miss the compliment, and it meant something to her. She didn't think herself ugly of course, but there was an odd enviousness of her toward her mother. Nothing born of ire, but rather, she hoped to someday be the same kind of woman and knew she still had time to go. Though Gareth thinking of her in such a way did warm her chest, and her face, in a way she was learning to enjoy.
"To be honest..." She glanced at him, perhaps a little somber. "I do not know myself. I don't know if this is sudden, or if it was bound to happen. Honestly, I just know that I need to keep people safe." A hand laid over her heart at the thought. "Perhaps we are being tricked or toyed with, but I cannot risk doing nothing." Not that she thought he was indicating anything of the sort, but she had felt some conflict at the suggestion that there may have been more going on than she first thought.
"I don't like it either." She could save face and pretend otherwise, but she never felt whole when any of them were missing-- least of all Gareth. "But, no one else can do what you do." It was both praise and the unfortunate truth, they all had their parts to play and sadly his kept them apart. "I simply hope to get this over with as quickly as possible."
"Of course," he said easily, smiling as her delight in receiving the compliment became obvious. He was happy to pay her as many as she wanted, because as surely as she enjoyed receiving them he enjoyed giving them to her. But he felt no need to rush. Being here again with Winter, with Zelly, with the whole group... it felt natural and right. It felt very much like home.
"Oh, I'd never say we should stand back and let things happen," he waved his hand quickly in a "no, no," motion. "Everything I've read about the Gods has said things go according to their plans more often than not, and fighting fate has the opposite effect we often intend. Slowly the hand dropped, and slowly a wry grin replaced his look of panic. "Although come to think of it, if we participate or not--it should all fit into destiny anyway." "But," and his voice took a more serious tone as he met her eyes, "I would never forgive myself for standing aside as atrocities like this one occur. And I know you wouldn't either."
"Isn't that true for all of us?" he joked. "But thank you. That means a lot to me. Sometimes I still feel like all I'm good for is little parlor tricks and turning invisible at the right time and place." He shrugged. "I guess what I'm doing now isn't all that different from playing tricks on people, actually. Just much, much bigger in scale."
"Do tell," Gareth grinned as he leaned back against the wall. "What would a rampaging Red Dragon say if he wanted to insult the Church?"
"I don't know if I like the idea of destiny." She admitted, quietly, as if it was a blasphemous thought. Perhaps it was, she didn't exactly know. The truth of it was it unsettled her. The idea of someone else pulling them along, deciding things. It felt.. strange. She liked to think she was her own person-- after all, isn't that what she was coming on this adventure to grow into after all? She tried not to think on it too much, sure it would make her head hurt.
Regardless of why, they were doing the right thing, and that was most important.
"And all I do is call to the Fey for aid, and all Orek does is axe things, and Viktor hits things with sticks-- we can all sound simple. But together, we are so much more than the little things." A soft pat of her hand to his shoulder as she tried to explain herself, even though the words were messy.
The question about a red dragon made her cheeks puff, if briefly. "I have never seen one; however I know they are unpleasant and arrogant." A sniff, her hands folding carefully as she thought it over. "Perhaps something about worshiping it over the church or else it would set fire to the town. They are easily very unpleasant."
Gareth nodded. "It's a mixed bag. Some people like the idea of fate because it means there's a plan for them, but to others it seems more like they're trapped and have no choice in the matter." The magician shrugged, letting out a sigh. "Honestly, it's something I try not to think about too much. Doesn't seem to me too much like things will change if I do or if I don't, so why bother?"
A moment of silence passed, broken by an honest laugh from Gareth's lips. "Hits things with sticks. And I suppose by that logic all Zelly does is wave a twig around," he affirmed, but his expression was hardly judgmental. "I guess nothing sounds that impressive when you boil it down." In the past he had shrunk away from her touch or at least frozen solid when she reached out to him, but there was almost the sense he leaned into it now, when she rested her hand on his shoulder for the briefest second. "But you do a lot more than call to the Fey for aid," he uttered softly. "Zelly brought us all together, but I think more than anyone you're what's keeping us, Winter." Gareth looked deep into her eyes, turning so he was facing her directly. Standing close. "Without you, we might have stuck together with a sense of common interest or greed, but with you here--we're a family." "And that's something that's incredibly important, especially to me."
She shied away from this, more than she had the compliment, but it was clear his words had an impact. She was thinking them over, taking the time to really find how she felt before she lifted her gaze to him with a warm smile on her lips. "I am glad." She was so much more than that, but they were the easiest words to roll off of her lips first.
"In my home blood only matters so much." She drew her hand back, touching over her heart. "My neighbors' children are my siblings, and I am theirs, in the way we choose our bonds by those who we share our life with. Our love and heart." She drew the hand from her heart to tap Gareth's with her fingertips in the same gentle way. "And we have chosen each other. A new family, but much the same.
"I am honored to have such a thing with all of you." She didn't miss the importance though and just smiled more. "You are as much a part of this as I am." He had been there since the start of her adventure, changed over time perhaps, but still holding things together. Still a part of what kept Winter here through all the changes.
"You will always be welcome in my family, Gareth Shire."
"Me too," he replied with a smile playing on his lips. Her smile captivated him and drew his eyes, keeping them fixed to her even when Zelly's story, which did seem to have successfully distracted Gorman, hit a part with a loud "boom!" And, evidently, some hopping from her.
Gareth listened with clear interest as Winter told him about her home. He ate it up, as always: he was unashamedly entranced by any and all talk of Dragons, and the magic they represented. From the most important elements of their society to the smallest, most inconsequential beliefs or customs they held, he was ravenous. It was one of the reasons Winter was so fascinating to him, although over their relationship he had of course developed further reasons.
His lip quivered slightly when she brought her fingers to his chest. Though they only lingered for a moment, he felt the warm they left for quite a while after. Five embers glowing brightly inside him. "And you in mine," he swallowed, and seemed like he might have been about to say something else, but a shout rang out: both Dink and Orek were returning, clearly unsuccessful. It seemed Lara wouldn't be joining them, and if the small coalition of Kobolds within the slums would be a help they clearly wouldn't be on the front lines.
"Not much time left," he sighed. "You be careful, alright?"
She was happy, with just that. A welcome spot amongst his family, as he was in hers. It may not have been closure, but it was something more than just letting it hang. She allowed herself to smile a little more, her gaze drifting to Orek and Dink. She was, admittedly, not surprised at the outcome. Laura had wanted to arrest Gorman, and sometimes she felt like she was the only one who remembered that.
She didn't say anything to them, Orek seemed dejected enough over that woman, he did not need her commentary.
Besides she was having a good conversation with Gareth, which called to her attention much more than anything else did. "And you." She commented, firmly, fingers reaching up before she hesitated briefly. It was hard to tell if it was because she thought better of it, or because they were in company, but seeing the others distracted she let her fingers touch the scarred skin of his face. "If you come back with another one of these I might not be able to leave you alone." It was a tease, though her words belied an evident worry.
There were never any promises of anyone making it back.
Gareth stretched, interlacing his fingers and pushing them outwards, bending his fingers backwards. "Guess I'd better get ready." He smiled, his excitement at getting to do something large, something truly gigantic, evident on his face. "I'll be sure to take eyes off you," he promised. "But I'll be stuck here, so you've got to be careful. Understand? Don't take him lightly. We don't know what's really going on here and things could go from bad to worse before you know it."
And then she touched him. Before his absence from the group, Gareth would have flinched away from her hand, or perhaps closed his eyes tight. He wouldn't have been able to so much as look at her.
Now he met her gaze, eyes locked and full of compassion. He reached up and pressed her hand to his face, accepting and encouraging it. "No guarantees," he agreed. "So--"
And Gareth's other hand slid around the back of her head and pulled her in for a kiss. Brief, easy for the rest of the group to miss. Their lips were only touching for a second, but to Gareth it felt like a lot longer. It had been a long time coming.
Everything she was seemed to soften, so much at that moment, including the look in her eyes. The kiss was brief, but she could still feel his lips against hers long after he had pulled back. So many different things seemed to make so much more sense now. The feeling in her chest among others. She nodded, and for a few seconds, she was at a loss for words. Finally, a smile touched her lips, the soft, chilled pad of her thumb lightly caressing his cheek.
"Now you must be safe." She spoke softer, more intimately, a secret between the two of them before she forced herself to withdraw her hand. She didn't want to be caught standing there, staring up at him longingly with her hand on his face. There were important matters to attend to, and this wasn't the distraction their team needed. "Because I intend to return that back to you, upon our return."
They shared a moment more of closeness, of long-awaited intimacy, both of them perhaps finally coming to put a name to how they felt when they looked at each other. It would have been obvious to others in their situation--and maybe was obvious to those around them--but neither were what you might consider particularly mature in these matters. No, Winter was famously naive and although Gareth was worldly he himself was clueless about matters of love. But it seemed a great deal had changed.
He drank in the sight of her so soft and so warm, and he thought it was the sweetest thing he had ever seen.
"I can't wait," he said honestly. "Come back soon." The look he gave her was the kind a drowning man might give to a plank of wood that owed him a kiss.
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Gareth dropped his fingers away from the marks, and it was clear it took a great deal of effort for him to do so. There was a kind of fascination in his inspection, like even he couldn't believe one side of his face had changed so much. As if, perhaps, continuing inspection would show him something new and interesting about the marks. A new tic he'd developed. Fascination would be the right word for it; instead of cringing away from the burning trees he'd conjured in front of the manor just earlier that day--or for that matter, creating a less frightening illusion--there had been a kind of deadly interest in his gaze when he'd stared at his creation.
The magician's eyes flicked upwards as a new shout filled the air, too far to be immediately dangerous but potentially troublesome if it moved clearer. Suzail was like a whole different city with the Paladin order on the move: the customary hustle-and-bustle of the place had been replaced by occasional yelling, pleading, gruff orders barked, and an underlying silence that was somehow worse. Not that they needed any audio cues to remind them of the city's sinister shift. The slightly smoking crater, as large as a barn and half as deep, remnant of Gorman's workshop, sat right in front of them like a sullen glare.
"I was rushing to get to the manor in time," Gareth remarked offhandedly to Winter beside him. His eyes tracked Zelly as she, in her still-childlike way, attempted to distract Gorman with chatter. "But I think you had it handled without me."
"Still... it's good to see you. It hasn't been that long, but it sure feels like it."
no subject
"Your help is always valuable, Gareth." She reminded him, some small part of her thinking perhaps he needed to hear it. To know it. Though after recent events she wondered if he believed it. Still, she would say it, because she believed it. "Though, thankfully, we were able to handle the insufferable man for now." She pursed her lips a little. It had been more dangerous than that, more than she was happy with but...
She wasn't sure if she wanted to tell him how dangerous.
"It is always good to see you." She answered, simply, as if it was something one just said offhand. But for her, it was that easy, as it was the truth. He was a friendly face that she was fond of, there was no doubt of that. But beyond that, she had wondered, if briefly, she would. When he had been gone for some time, lost to the city after the dragon she had wondered if he had fled. Not that she still thought him that kind of man, but because if it was the best for Zelly or any of them, she knew he might. She knew, all the same, she would too if it kept them safe. An odd, unfounded, fleeting fear that still somehow managed to make her heart heavy.
"Perhaps the looming danger makes time feel so much longer." She half-joked, though there was a little tightness to the tone. Even Winter wasn't oblivious to the seriousness of their situation.
no subject
"Insufferable is right," he agreed with a small smirk. "Good to have someone like him to face, don't you think? No moral qualms about whether he's in the right or the wrong here. At least I don't have any."
"Does anyone in the group...?" he asked curiously, the magician's eyebrows raised in an expression of interest. "I wonder where Damiano's allegiance would have fallen."
He turned aside for just a moment when she graced him with those words, his face hidden for only a second or two before he faced her with a look of obvious gratitude. If he'd had time to moderate or change his expression from the initial surprise of her honest, meaningful confession, no trace of the look it had once been remained on his face. All that was left was camaraderie and an appreciation for her kindness.
"Agreed," he said, the words a little harder to come by for him than they had been for her, but at least he was able to say them. That too had changed, if only a little.
"I was worried about all of you, with all of this going on. You especially."
"It does," he agreed, smiling sadly at the joke she'd made. "The past few days have felt like the longest of my life." He considered the memories for a moment, looking down at the loosely-cobbled ground, then shook his head and raised his gaze again.
"Might I... see that white branch again?" Gareth asked.
no subject
After a pause, her fingers tightened and then relaxed, as if she had managed to actually bite back the urge to say something, though what came after was no less scathing. "I think him not being here tells us exactly where it fell." The idea of betrayal wasn't unfamiliar to her, not that she had experienced it often. But their adventures, and those vampiric children had taught her much more than she let on.
"The worry was mutual." She reached to her side, the soft leather bag hanging there pulled open, digging through it a bit before she retrieved the white branch. It was small, but pretty, she thought. The kind of thing she might have weaved in her hair if she wasn't so unsure what it was for-- or where it really came from. There was no hesitation when she held it out to him; though she wasn't sure if he could take it. She had tried to give it to him before, but it hadn't worked. Perhaps it was in the intent?
She wasn't too worried, she'd hold it out as long as he needed her to.
"My father had always told me tales like this, humans after each other, but I... I did not think I would ever really see it."
no subject
"Perhaps he split when the designs of the Church became more obvious," he suggested, but didn't look much convinced himself. After all,
"His adoration of Percival kind of knocks a hole in that theory, though."
Gareth shrugged. Clearly his tolerance for betrayal was greater than Winter's... or perhaps he'd never trusted the Paladin completely. Now it was just a foregone conclusion.
"It was touch-and-go for a moment or two there," he admitted. "You were right to be worried. But I managed to come out with only this." He pointed to the swathe of scars on the left side of his face. "I'd say it's a fair trade for my life. As long as it doesn't hurt my looks too much."
He didn't take the branch when she offered it; after all, their previous attempts had ended in an embarrassing failure, like the Gods themselves had been chuckling at his naivete. Instead Gareth simply looked at it, inspecting it from every angle, then nodded and leaned on back. The look in his eyes when they were filled with the divine symbol had lost some of the raw, open hurt and soft sadness had replaced it. Gareth seemed like he was deep in thought until she spoke, and then slowly came from it to look at her again.
"Hm? Oh, it's more common than you might think. Humans fight with each other over the silliest things. Whose sheep are whose, where your land ends and mine begins, whether your queen is the right queen..." he shrugged. We're our own worst enemies. And people have always been afraid of mages, so I suppose this was a long time coming." He snorted.
"They should have known we'd fight back. I just don't know what the plan is: no one's coming out of this without injuries."
And this time he didn't catch his own hand when it rose up to trace his burn.
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"You know." She began, casually though it wasn't the same as her normal tone. As if she was attempting to word things correctly, yet pass it off as casual. Not inherently dishonest, but not as off the cuff as she hoped to sound. "My father has many scars." A nod as she glanced toward the sky, not avoiding his gaze so much as thoughtful. Watching the clouds as if they might bless her with an answer. "Some on his face, like you. And still my mother looks at him with such--" She squeezed her hands shut tight, and then opened them, lacking the words to express that kind of raw emotion and instead hoping Gareth could just follow her intent. "Perhaps it is not favorable," she admitted, not blind to the negatives entirely. "But these scars do not change your heart."
That she was firm on.
It took her a few seconds to recover in the conversation, continuing it gently, her mind still stuck on her struggle to express her emotions properly.
"Perhaps he thinks himself so strong that he doesn't care about us fighting back. It will be his second biggest mistake."
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So he listened. Listened carefully, and with every word his cheeks grew a little redder.
He looked away the same way she had, but his reason was clearly to avoid her gaze, avoid further embarrassment. "Well, I..." he coughed lightly, and this time he was having difficulty finding the right words. But at least that was in character for him.
"I wasn't really expecting a straight-on response to that, I guess. I know it doesn't make me look any more handsome, not that I've ever thought I was..." he shook his head, trying to stay on-topic. And now he checked his words very carefully, tread extremely softly.
"Your father's a very lucky man, if you and your mother share much in common."
He looked over at Zelly for a moment, enjoying the sight of her entertaining Gorman with some kind of story that involved her spreading her arms out wide, wide, wide.
"Perhaps he does," he answered her. "Percival has always seemed pretty full of himself. But all this, still... it doesn't feel quite right."
"I can't help but wonder if there's something going on here we're not seeing." And his eyes drifted slowly to her backpack, where the branch poked ever so slightly free.
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Not that she dwelled on it much. "My mother is much wiser than I could ever hope to be, beautiful too." And there was no self-deprecation in these statements; it was clear there was a sort of adoration there toward her mother. She thought the woman as wise as she was beautiful. To Winter it was just another fact.
She followed his gaze, as best she could, however, it took her a few more moments to put things together than it had for him. "Do you think the things we received are related?" She hadn't thought about it at all, admittedly, but the timing did seem suspect.
Not that it made her like him any more than she had. Paladins, she had decided, were far more creatures of their whims than she had first been lead to believe.
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But he waved away the question as soon as he said it. "Never mind." It didn't matter, after all: he hadn't been looking at them, and there was no one they'd met on their travels he would have particularly cared about if they had. There was only one woman--
"I won't deny you could stand to learn a little more worldliness," he teased her with a gentle smile, his ability to play along clearly improved by the week or so he'd spent apart from the group. "But you're a lot wiser than I think you give yourself credit for. And a lot more beautiful." He met her gaze openly, and although his cheeks held a faint tinge of red in them it was clear his ability to pay compliments had made great strides as well.
"I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe it's suspect to me because I just got here and everything is happening at once, or maybe I'm just not seeing the whole picture. If there's one thing Gods have to have, it's perspective. So maybe the whole Church going crazy is a little bump to them where to us it's a mountain." He shrugged helplessly. "It's all a little out of my expertise."
A brief shout rose in the town, then fell. Another group apprehended by the Paladins, perhaps, or a fight erupting. He fidgeted, stroking his burned chin.
"Waiting here is making me antsy," he sighed. "But it's worse knowing you're going to have to fight him without me." And the look on his face was miserable.
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"To be honest..." She glanced at him, perhaps a little somber. "I do not know myself. I don't know if this is sudden, or if it was bound to happen. Honestly, I just know that I need to keep people safe." A hand laid over her heart at the thought. "Perhaps we are being tricked or toyed with, but I cannot risk doing nothing." Not that she thought he was indicating anything of the sort, but she had felt some conflict at the suggestion that there may have been more going on than she first thought.
"I don't like it either." She could save face and pretend otherwise, but she never felt whole when any of them were missing-- least of all Gareth. "But, no one else can do what you do." It was both praise and the unfortunate truth, they all had their parts to play and sadly his kept them apart. "I simply hope to get this over with as quickly as possible."
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"Oh, I'd never say we should stand back and let things happen," he waved his hand quickly in a "no, no," motion. "Everything I've read about the Gods has said things go according to their plans more often than not, and fighting fate has the opposite effect we often intend. Slowly the hand dropped, and slowly a wry grin replaced his look of panic. "Although come to think of it, if we participate or not--it should all fit into destiny anyway."
"But," and his voice took a more serious tone as he met her eyes, "I would never forgive myself for standing aside as atrocities like this one occur. And I know you wouldn't either."
"Isn't that true for all of us?" he joked. "But thank you. That means a lot to me. Sometimes I still feel like all I'm good for is little parlor tricks and turning invisible at the right time and place." He shrugged. "I guess what I'm doing now isn't all that different from playing tricks on people, actually. Just much, much bigger in scale."
"Do tell," Gareth grinned as he leaned back against the wall. "What would a rampaging Red Dragon say if he wanted to insult the Church?"
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Regardless of why, they were doing the right thing, and that was most important.
"And all I do is call to the Fey for aid, and all Orek does is axe things, and Viktor hits things with sticks-- we can all sound simple. But together, we are so much more than the little things." A soft pat of her hand to his shoulder as she tried to explain herself, even though the words were messy.
The question about a red dragon made her cheeks puff, if briefly. "I have never seen one; however I know they are unpleasant and arrogant." A sniff, her hands folding carefully as she thought it over. "Perhaps something about worshiping it over the church or else it would set fire to the town. They are easily very unpleasant."
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A moment of silence passed, broken by an honest laugh from Gareth's lips.
"Hits things with sticks. And I suppose by that logic all Zelly does is wave a twig around," he affirmed, but his expression was hardly judgmental. "I guess nothing sounds that impressive when you boil it down." In the past he had shrunk away from her touch or at least frozen solid when she reached out to him, but there was almost the sense he leaned into it now, when she rested her hand on his shoulder for the briefest second.
"But you do a lot more than call to the Fey for aid," he uttered softly. "Zelly brought us all together, but I think more than anyone you're what's keeping us, Winter." Gareth looked deep into her eyes, turning so he was facing her directly. Standing close.
"Without you, we might have stuck together with a sense of common interest or greed, but with you here--we're a family."
"And that's something that's incredibly important, especially to me."
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"In my home blood only matters so much." She drew her hand back, touching over her heart. "My neighbors' children are my siblings, and I am theirs, in the way we choose our bonds by those who we share our life with. Our love and heart." She drew the hand from her heart to tap Gareth's with her fingertips in the same gentle way. "And we have chosen each other. A new family, but much the same.
"I am honored to have such a thing with all of you." She didn't miss the importance though and just smiled more. "You are as much a part of this as I am." He had been there since the start of her adventure, changed over time perhaps, but still holding things together. Still a part of what kept Winter here through all the changes.
"You will always be welcome in my family, Gareth Shire."
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Gareth listened with clear interest as Winter told him about her home. He ate it up, as always: he was unashamedly entranced by any and all talk of Dragons, and the magic they represented. From the most important elements of their society to the smallest, most inconsequential beliefs or customs they held, he was ravenous. It was one of the reasons Winter was so fascinating to him, although over their relationship he had of course developed further reasons.
His lip quivered slightly when she brought her fingers to his chest. Though they only lingered for a moment, he felt the warm they left for quite a while after. Five embers glowing brightly inside him.
"And you in mine," he swallowed, and seemed like he might have been about to say something else, but a shout rang out: both Dink and Orek were returning, clearly unsuccessful. It seemed Lara wouldn't be joining them, and if the small coalition of Kobolds within the slums would be a help they clearly wouldn't be on the front lines.
"Not much time left," he sighed. "You be careful, alright?"
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She didn't say anything to them, Orek seemed dejected enough over that woman, he did not need her commentary.
Besides she was having a good conversation with Gareth, which called to her attention much more than anything else did. "And you." She commented, firmly, fingers reaching up before she hesitated briefly. It was hard to tell if it was because she thought better of it, or because they were in company, but seeing the others distracted she let her fingers touch the scarred skin of his face. "If you come back with another one of these I might not be able to leave you alone." It was a tease, though her words belied an evident worry.
There were never any promises of anyone making it back.
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And then she touched him.
Before his absence from the group, Gareth would have flinched away from her hand, or perhaps closed his eyes tight. He wouldn't have been able to so much as look at her.
Now he met her gaze, eyes locked and full of compassion. He reached up and pressed her hand to his face, accepting and encouraging it. "No guarantees," he agreed. "So--"
And Gareth's other hand slid around the back of her head and pulled her in for a kiss. Brief, easy for the rest of the group to miss. Their lips were only touching for a second, but to Gareth it felt like a lot longer. It had been a long time coming.
"Just in case," he murmured, and shrugged.
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"Now you must be safe." She spoke softer, more intimately, a secret between the two of them before she forced herself to withdraw her hand. She didn't want to be caught standing there, staring up at him longingly with her hand on his face. There were important matters to attend to, and this wasn't the distraction their team needed. "Because I intend to return that back to you, upon our return."
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He drank in the sight of her so soft and so warm, and he thought it was the sweetest thing he had ever seen.
"I can't wait," he said honestly.
"Come back soon."
The look he gave her was the kind a drowning man might give to a plank of wood that owed him a kiss.