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And Erothin basked in golden light, ribbons of pink clouds dancing in the sky, a welcome sight after… everything that had transpired. They stood there, elbows propped against the marble railing, slowly unwinding and letting every bit of tension fade away, breathing out a deep sigh of relief held in for so long.
It was silent, save for the cries of the gulls and birds, the swaying of the leaves in the breeze, a comforting rustling after the eerie emptiness and stillness of Inodan and Fate’s Edge.
Gisele had dropped half of her armour to the ground, its weight having suddenly become unbearably heavy. Gauntlets and pauldrons thrown away with a loud clang as the metal resonated, Arkt lifting a curious brow at her actions. She’d always been peculiar, loud and brash when it came to action and fighting, but terribly awkward and almost shy when it came to simply talking to other people. There wasn’t much he knew about her, if at all, but he knew that soon, she’d feel this awful sense of loss, the same that he knew that he’ll feel soon.
A child ripped from the safety of an abbey, a sword thrusted into their hands with only the order to fight for something that they didn’t even realise until it was too late. And now? What was she to do? There was nothing left to fight for, and she stood on the empty throne of the Shadowgod she now was. Yes, he was there, to help her and guide her, but he was just as lost as her.
“Sarantha made a mess of you,” Arkt was the first to break the comfortable silence that had settled, noticing the gash on her cheek.
She instinctively passed a hand on her face, her fingers settling just below the gash, tracing its length. “She did, didn’t she? I don’t think this is something a healing potion will take care of.” She sighed, dreading a visit to whatever nurse the nearby village had. Stitches were never fun, especially on her face, knowing that she’d end up making things worse by playing with the scabs and thread. “And I bet it’ll scar nicely, all puffy and gross.” Her words were drenched in sarcasm, hoping to hide the worry behind them.
“It’ll add some charm.”
“I hope so, I’m most definitely not the most charming person around here.” She snickered, turning her attention back to the clouds in the sky.
Arkt lifted up her head to face him properly with a finger under her chin, before passing two digits alongside the wound, badly healing from her badly casted spell. Oh, how dearly did she regret not having properly learnt healing spells! Kim was always on top of it, her hands almost constantly glowing from having to cast it upon Gisele so often, but now…
She couldn’t help but feel a shiver come, Arkt’s touch impossibly soft as if he was terrified of hurting her in any way, but his gaze was impassable as always, and for once, she dared to hold it, her eyes locking into his, trying to guess what emotions and feelings were running through his head.
“There. You’ll still have a scar, but only a faint one.”
He pulled his hand away, and for the first time, Gisele wanted to grab him by the wrist, and have him touch her face for a bit longer. Was she simply desperate? Did she simply crave contact, a human touch, after everything that she went through? Or did she delight in Arkt’s touch, his touch, in how it made her feel right then and there?
She knew it was the latter, when she finally guesses what hid behind his eyes. A craving like hers, to be soft and tender for once, to let her guard completely down and to unapologetically give into whatever she felt. How long had it been since he allowed himself that? Since Zelara’s death? An eternity, even to someone like him.
The silence between them was heavy now, the beat of their hearts almost audible through their heavy armour, stained with blood and soot and dirt, that they know that they’ll never don again, or at least, for a long time. He felt himself emboldened by the rush of adrenaline from the fight, his blood still coursing at full speed in his veins like a torrential river, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.
“Stay with me,” Arkt wasn’t sure if he had thought it loudly, or if he had whispered it. But there was a shift in her face, resignation blossoming into eagerness at what his words could imply, and she nodded.
It’ll only be the two of them, from now on, but at least, it is them, and not anyone else.