Amdirlain’s PoV - Outlands - Outpost of the Monastery of the Western Reaches
When Amdirlain returned to the training hall, Sarah sat at the table drawing out plans for a building. Though she was drawing it freehand, every line was mechanically precise.
“Is that the first time memories have had you distracted?” enquired Sarah as she put the pen aside.
Amdirlain nodded, and the intensity of her frown tightened her jawline. “I will have to push my classes and maybe species along. I’m going to need to bolster my Intelligence.”
“You’re not going to ride it out and see if the memories settle?” asked Sarah.
“I had intended to do just that,” agreed Amdirlain, and she waggled a finger toward Livia’s manor. “That is until that batch occurred when we started to speak with Livia, and it wasn’t a single memory but a cascade of them. They each were a microsecond to experience, but thousands in a row. I heard fragments of millions of songs, and I don’t know if I would have caught more of them...”
“If your capacity had been further developed,” finished Sarah. “Though it wasn’t just songs you were experiencing.”
The flush turned Amdirlain’s face a deep bronze. “Hush! Now you know why I feel like a voyeur. It’s as if I’m in her skin while Ori is experiencing every sensation.”
“Yet you smelt embarrassed and aroused but not revolted,” observed Sarah.
Amdirlain nervously twitched her head. “I told you I felt it was beautiful. I’d never be dismissive of another’s love.”
“Is that part of why you need to get your head in order?” asked Sarah cautiously. “Do you feel you don’t deserve something beautiful?”
The admission of the old guilt she’d discussed with Sarith dug at Amdirlain. After finally admitting the incident, spilling the beans to Sarah was tempting. Yet old habits had the words dying on her tongue.
Compared to everything we’ve endured that is so minor, it’s like an annoying cut when she’s lived in Hell.
“Yes and no,” allowed Amdirlain. “More like their love is such an intense experience that who wouldn’t get swept away? Yet that makes me cautious to ensure I know where my head is.”
“Not simply craving the physical sensation and the ‘in love’ experience?” offered Sarah.
“Exactly, I don’t want to be using you to fulfil a longing,” said Amdirlain, her fingers curled from nervous tension. “I need to ensure that I would genuinely take part in a relationship.”
“It’s alright,” said Sarah, and rose from the table.
She intercepted Amdirlain’s pacing with long strides to catch her in a reassuring hug. Keyed up as Amdirlain was, the reaction Sarah got surprised her.
Rather than twitch or hesitate to accept the gesture, Amdirlain relaxed into it with a soft sigh and rested her head against Sarah’s shoulder. “It’s not the empty hunger I had to fight before, that I can tell you, but the memories are a riptide that sweeps me along.”
“Is it a riptide that scares you?” whispered Sarah.
“It’s not a riptide that threatens to drag me under,” breathed Amdirlain. “There is this warm, comforting familiarity to it, but strange at the same time. It''s like entering a place I don’t remember and feeling home. So part of me says it can’t be mine, and another part wonders if the change is too sudden to originate from me?”
“That sounds like a combination of self-doubt and the fear of getting lost. Good news, there is no need to rush towards an answer,” said Sarah softly, carefully motionless despite the desires that Amdirlain could feel. “Take your time. Are you still listening to my song?”
“Yes,” murmured Amdirlain, and she sighed, caught up in the enfolding warmth of Sarah’s Soul and its complex orchestra. “Your song makes this so comforting.”
“You know, that gives you a bit of an advantage,” protested Sarah lightly.
Amdirlain gave a boneless shrug, and tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. “I don’t want to stop listening to you. I’m sorry if it’s embarrassing.”
“It’s not embarrassing,” replied Sarah. “But I’ll admit that knowing you are aware of my feelings will take some getting used to.”
“Hey, I am fully displaying my feelings to your Dragon perceptions,” said Amdirlain. “Especially with that second memory surge, you smelt enough to trigger your instincts.”
“You got the first-person view, but I had a front-row seat of its effect on you,” admitted Sarah. “You were right next to me, and I thought your scent would ignite my brain.”
“Syl had more than a front-row seat in that memory,” muttered Amdirlain, and she raked her fingers through her hair, though she didn’t pull away. “I need to know it’s the right decision and not just be swept in the rush of emotions.”
Sarah sighed. “You used to scrub at your scalp like that after chemo. If this situation has you that on edge-”
“I know I haven’t done it for ages, but I’ve noticed myself doing it in the last few years,” admitted Amdirlain, and she opted to minimise the concern she’d aired to Sarith. “I think it’s just an old emotional wound bugging me.”
“Do you need someone to help work through them?” asked Sarah. “Or are you using the exercises you learnt in the past?”
“I spoke to Sarith,” admitted Amdirlain. “That meant I had to explain some of the background to her, but I kept it general.”
Sarah’s brows lifted in surprise. “Sarith?! How did she react to you painting yourself badly?”
“Who says I painted myself badly?” protested Amdirlain.
The sceptical gaze Sarah fixed Amdirlain with had her squirming. “You said it was an old wound? To me, that smacks of pre-curse. Scrubbing at your scalp. What happened during chemo that I missed?”
“Please leave it, Sarah,” sighed Amdirlain.
Sharp notes rang from Sarah, and Amdirlain felt a telepathic enquiry stretch out and chime against Sarith. It was a struggle not to listen between Resonance''s increased sensitivity and her own curiosity. Still, Amdirlain restrained herself despite the doubts and concerns that prickled at her.
She went straight to Sarith.
The conversation paused, and Sarah smiled at her reassuringly. “You know I’m not asking her for details about you as I don’t want your Healer’s brain exploding. My concern is about her state and whether Sarith believes that she’s been truly able to move past the background you share. I needed to know that before I asked her about something for myself.”
Sarah wants the rules followed; I should have guessed, but what about herself?
Amdirlain grumbled. “Don’t go fishing for hints. You know me well enough she wouldn’t have to give you many details.”
“I’m never going to ask for details or hints you’re unwilling to share voluntarily,” said Sarah.
Frustration spiked a blade in Amdirlain, warring with the happiness that had soaked within her. “You could have asked before you started chatting with her.”
Would her checking on Sarith have mattered if I had just told her?
“You would have said no,” pointed out Sarah, and she hugged Amdirlain tighter. “And you are always seeking forgiveness rather than permission.”
“You know that’s not playing fair,” muttered Amdirlain.
“What, using your own playbook against you?” asked Sarah. “Or the hug?”
“Both,” huffed Amdirlain.
“I’m glad you’re talking to Sarith, as I’ve heard enough to know she’s a very changed person,” reassured Sarah. “Can I give my ten cents’ worth and shut up?”
“Do you have to?” asked Amdirlain.
Sarah’s lip pursed as if she’d bitten into some bitter. “You have stuff to work through with Sarith, but I’ve something to tell you. So this is a general observation, no advice, no judgment of you, but it’s a lead-up to my admission.“
“Okay!” gasped Amdirlain. “Sorry.”
“I reached out to her without telling you first, and that annoyed you?” guessed Sarah.
Amdirlain huffed in frustration and tried to get her body to relax. “Yeah.”
“The second thing I asked her about was to ensure my admission wouldn’t rub on whatever you’re discussing with her,” explained Sarah. “I told her the topic and embarrassed her, but no details.”
“Oh!” groaned Amdirlain.
“I’m too used to multi-tasking and having you unable to hear it,” conceded Sarah. “I’ll have to get out of that habit.”
“Naughty Dragon,” grumbled Amdirlain, and she rested her head on Sarah’s shoulder again. “You’re fined a prolonged hug before being allowed to speak further about your topic.”
Her proclamation warranted a gentle kiss on the cheek from Sarah, and the pair remained in place. With Sarah’s arms enfolding her, sweet tones of content chimed around Amdirlain. As the minutes passed, knots of tension released in her muscles and posture, each so minor that Pain Eater ignored them, but their combined absence was a relief.
More snippets of memories teased against her awareness; while scores bloomed fully to life, hundreds more remained just out of reach. Sometimes, Ori and Syl would snatch moments in the middle of Ori constructing whole systems, but other times, they’d enjoyed decades of quiet while a new galactic core settled. Through them all, the age of Syl’s song provided a precise chronicle of the time they had left. Their love was a fiery young passion fit for a blast furnace that, as they aged, tempered into the constant heat of a forge, and a life without Syl never crossed Ori’s mind.
The longer Amdirlain stood enjoying Sarah’s embrace, the more memories emerged. After a memory that was too explicit for comfort held her tight, Amdirlain cleared her throat with an embarrassed cough. “Perhaps you’d best talk, or maybe let me go?”
“I want to see if keeping your mind busy helps before I take the dire step of letting you go,” replied Sarah dryly, her arms securely around Amdirlain.
Though Amdirlain snorted in amusement, she didn’t protest the decision.
“However, that would be taking advantage of your confusion, so I’d best stop,” Sarah said, reluctantly stepping back to arm''s distance.
“I guess I can stand on my own two feet,” allowed Amdirlain. “Alright, spill.”
“We talked about the different spam messages we both got after being cursed, and one of yours was Gideon giving you a Karma score, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” admitted Amdirlain. “No explanation as to what actions had contributed.”
Sarah tapped the side of her nose. “Whatever you’re feeling bad about, consider that score. Gideon can be an arsehole, but they’ll call a spade a spade. The dissection of our lives was pretty intrusive. Do you think he would have given you a break?”
“They deal in facts, not feelings,” rebuffed Amdirlain.
“Really?” questioned Sarah. “Not sure where you got that impression, as they’re the Aspect of knowledge. It’s pretty hard to know everything and be blind to feelings. They know your feelings and motives well enough to take very effective digs at you.”
When they want to manipulate me.
“Just something that Ori said to them in a memory,” hedged Amdirlain.
“Was she hurting at the time?” asked Sarah, and she groaned when Amdirlain nodded tightly. “Was she lashing out?”
“Yes,” admitted Amdirlain. “Considering what Gideon said in a note, they were both lashing out at each other, but it doesn’t change what happened. They were a tactless arsehole to Ori while she was in pain from maiming herself and showed zero compassion. Gideon’s note effectively confessed they chose to be an arsehole as a strategy to provoke her into a desired action.”
Sarah swallowed and nervously licked her lips. “You found out why she maimed herself?”
“Yes. It wasn’t one thing specifically that triggered it, but an accumulation of pain and regrets,” advised Amdirlain.
“Can we speak about it later?”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“We can,” replied Amdirlain. “But I’m not sure it’s healthy.”
“Maybe not, but we both have pain to go into. Let me deal with my admission first,” said Sarah; her fingers twitched nervously against the laces that ran up the outside of her leather pants.
“Okay,” replied Amdirlain, and she quashed an unexpected mental image of peeling Syl out of similar pants.
That felt weird. At least I can easily put that one to Ori’s influence. Are other things less easily discerned?
“Anyway, with the spam messages that flew by in my awareness, it was a karma score of zero,” stated Sarah.
“I’d rate that as Gideon being an arsehole. They had less compassion handling Ori in pain than an internet troll,” said Amdirlain. “They do seem to specialise in a particular way of getting under someone’s skin.”
“Am, I wasn’t objecting to it, rather supplying the background,” said Sarah.
“What?”
“Look at it this way, I looked after myself and didn’t use my psychology degree outside of understanding my clients better and being a more effective Dom. Heck, the only person I ever looked after was Mum when Dad moved out,” said Sarah.
“You did stuff for me and Rach,” protested Amdirlain.
“You two didn’t need significant help. If I take a cynical view, masses of self-interest were involved in the time I did spend helping either of you. You and Rach were my friends and remained that way even after I decided to be a professional dominatrix. I didn’t even need to try to hide that from either of you,” rebuffed Sarah softly. Though tension screeched from her; there wasn’t even a twitch of her lips. “What sort of idiot would I have been to let the last of my social circle outside BDSM completely evaporate?”
“We’re not false friends to toss you aside,” huffed Amdirlain. “Unlike other idiots. Did any of your university friends ever get back in touch with you?”
“You’re trying to change the subject, aren’t you?” asked Sarah, and she gave Amdirlain a slow headshake.
“I can hear the scars on your Soul and your pain,” replied Amdirlain; even as she savoured the reassurance Sarah’s embrace had provided her, her arms felt achingly empty. “You already said you’re not judging me, and I’m certainly going to do that to you.”
The gap between them suddenly loomed, and Amdirlain, spurred by the sensation, stepped close. Sarah drew her into a hug when Amdirlain put her hands out.
“It’s not about judging me, Am, it’s about me being open,” said Sarah. “I don’t do the whole being open thing well. Communication is essential in a healthy relationship, but I’m not expecting you to reciprocate about your wounds. This is me getting something off my chest, so please listen.”
“Sorry,” whispered Amdirlain, and Sarah partly released Amdirlain and put a finger to Amdirlain’s lips.
With her other hand still on Amdirlain’s back, Sarah leaned into her as if afraid to let go, and sour, anxious notes rippled across Sarah’s Soul to be drowned by the warmth.
“I gave zero to charities and spent no time helping community projects. Zip. I didn’t go out doing anything nasty to anyone who hadn’t paid for it, but I wasn’t helping community groups or charities like you,” said Sarah. “To me, getting a zero karma balance was understandable. Then, I broke out of an egg under the sulphurous gaze of the Great Mother. There was this overload of pressure in my mind from her voice, and then they dropped the chains over me, and I was crushed into the ground. Yet, instead of being terrified and what should have been the agony of being crushed and face-planted into the ground, I’m dealing with a full-body orgasm.”
The hand on Amdirlain’s back trembled, and Sarah exhaled sharply before she continued. Her expression tightened, and her gaze became shuttered and withdrawn.
“Touching those memories is weird. While I can feel the pleasure, the experience is terrifying now, a bizarre juxtaposition,” sighed Sarah. “I had no alien presence affecting my body, and I didn’t fight that I was a Kyton. I justified that by going with the flow; I could control its expression and keep my sanity, but that was rot. Since my evolution, my mentor has helped me with many memories, but lingering things can take a while to break down and look at rationally. I take it the emotional wound you spoke to Sarith about is something you’ve never mentioned while at the monastery?”
Amdirlain glanced cross-eyed at Sarah’s finger that was still absently resting on her lips. With an embarrassed laugh, Sarah pulled it away. “I’m not done, but I’ll let you answer.”
“No, I didn’t want to give the Winter Queen personal ammunition when she learned of it,” said Amdirlain.
“I can understand that, and I’ll admit to a bit of nervousness in broaching this subject. The background was to remind you I know about lingering wounds, and there are more than a few experiences I had in Hell that I’m sure would have you revolted.”
“Extreme experiences?” murmured Amdirlain, but she didn’t twitch to break away.
“You took control by saying no, but I took control in different ways,” confessed Sarah, swallowing the nerves that threatened to choke her voice.
Amdirlain nodded against Sarah’s shoulder. “I’d already figured that out, and I’m not judging you for it.”
A long exhale from Sarah prompted Amdirlain to return the hug properly instead of merely resting contently in her arms.
“You’re really not?” questioned Sarah, frowning in confusion and surprise; with it, a glimmer of vulnerability shone in her gaze.
Amdirlain snorted. “I have odd double standards. I know. And I’m hopeless in trying to shed them. Everything I do that can be looked at two ways is vile, and things others do for survival are acceptable as long as innocents weren’t hurt.”
“Even fucking devils and torturing demons?” rasped Sarah.
“Are you expecting me to turn my nose up?” asked Amdirlain. “I bet you picked the ugly devils to screw or the ones that would let you beat them bloody in the process.”
Sarah grimaced and swallowed nervously. “Not always. Some of the charming devils are the foulest. The more they revolted and hurt me, the bigger the fix I got.”
“Sarah,” breathed Amdirlain. “I can’t imagine life without you as part of it. That isn’t a possibilityy, even with everything else happening in my head.”
“But it’s a matter of what part of your life I am,” finished Sarah.
“Yes, and that’s part of why I feel shallow,” replied Amdirlain. “Now, if you’d gone off and caused permanent harm to an innocent, we’d need to talk regarding how you could make amends. Things like that would have shown up as more than simple scars on your Soul. Do I need to point out you took a massive risk to break Gaius’ contract?”
Sarah’s gaze flared briefly. “I’m sure my involvement with that expedition still left scars on my Soul.”
“I’m sure it did, but I won’t poke at each one to find out. Nor am I going to see which ones relate to activities involving any Devil or Demon,” asserted Amdirlain. “Maybe you should gain a Monk class, so you can cycle Ki and work on cleaning them up.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “I’ll leave that to you.”
“With what you did to the demons, we both know some of them likely enjoyed it. Ori thought of them as soulless monsters of corruption, like other ‘things’ she’d created for people to forge themselves against. Klipyl was different from other succubi I met, and on top of that, I think my compressing her shards had a relatively weird lingering effect on her.”
“You never asked anything about my pregnancy,” noted Sarah. “Or talked about how to rescue her.”
Amdirlain nodded. “That’s because I’m not an idiot, and I got some memories about the kytons before I found out. They always breed true, no matter the species that fathered the child. In your Sidero form, your flesh was Kyton, so your daughter is one. The Kyton Great Mother has her under her wing?”
“Yes, she was very pleased by her,” admitted Sarah.
“Then enough said unless you need to talk further,” declared Amdirlain. “Sarith asked me if I had chosen to share my issue with her instead of others, hoping she’d revile me. If you’re trying for that, it’s not the reaction you’ll get from me. I heard the responses raising the topic drew from the minor marks and flaws in your Soul. The damage you inflicted on yourself is minor amidst the other memories, but I’m sure it doesn’t feel that way.”
“I do abhorrent things that you can’t possibly have matched in your life as Julia without going to prison, yet I’m forgiven?” breathed Sarah. “How about you forgive yourself?”
The pain and sorrow that sprang from the Soul scars drove sour notes across Amdirlain’s awareness and killed the heat in her response.
“Sarah, I’ve already admitted my terrible double standards, so that’s going to take some work,” rebuffed Amdirlain gently. “And at the moment, I’m being saturated by memories of Ori''s and Syl’s interactions, so I’ll get back to you when they’ve calmed. I could use something to distract me from the inspiration of the harp while I figure out approaches to try or who to ask for help.”
Sarah blinked. “You’re going to ask for help?”
“I said at Livia’s that I can learn,” protested Amdirlain. “I’ve got to get in touch with someone to help the monastery with the magical training of their students. I contacted that uniquely shiny Dragon for help since I figured I should talk to him about any promises between him and Ori. Do you think he’d help with the harp?”
Hopefully, Bahamut can and will help, but we’ll see.
“It depends on how much of a problem you’ve stuck your paw in,” said Sarah. “He’d help, but he’d also likely ask for you to return the assistance to someone else.”
“As long as I get a veto on the favour delivered and the timing, that would be fine,” replied Amdirlain.
“Why don’t you stretch out and relax without me holding you?” proposed Sarah, reluctantly releasing Amdirlain. “Give yourself time to see if the memories settle without physical contact. They seem to have gotten stronger the longer I held you.”
One of the deep couches from their apartment on Qil Tris appeared braced against the room’s side wall. The thick plush cushions with their modern fabric appeared out of place against the golden wood and the antique style of the carved ivory.
“No wonder you left the apartment last,” laughed Amdirlain. “What else did you take with you?”
“We purchased the furnishing and my bed was comfortable, so I didn’t want to leave it behind. I don’t always feel like sleeping in Dragon form on coins, so a modern bed was too good to pass up,” replied Sarah.
Amdirlain went to stretch out and stopped to consider the harp. “I think I might have made a mistake.”
Hurt flared in Sarah’s theme, and Amdirlain jabbed a finger towards the harp. “Jumping to conclusions much! I meant I had intentionally used it to inspire knowledge of Ori and Syl, but I broke off mid-song. I wonder if there are elements to it I can’t hear because of its divine construction.”
“You think you put it in cruise control or something?” asked Sarah hesitantly.
“Potentially. I’ve no objection to the insights it provided even if I need a membership card to voyeurs r us,” quipped Amdirlain, and she gave a tight smile. “With all Resonance leaves me open to, you’d think I’d be used to that by now, yet I’ve learned to filter certain things out.”
“Does the upgrade make it uncomfortable or is it more the memories?” asked Sarah.
“The memories. They’re unfortunately far too personal and Ori isn’t filtering anything,” advised Amdirlain. “Resonance still lets me filter the fact that many people in my range are currently involved in intimate activity to just data.”
Sarah nodded to the harp. “So what were you thinking about it?”
“Right. Maybe I should finish the incomplete song?” proposed Amdirlain.
Sarah raised a cautioning hand before Amdirlain could move to the harp.
“I was asking, not saying to act. Let’s walk it through first. Are you just going to finish the song?” asked Sarah. “Do you know what triggered the effect?”
“What else can I do?” enquired Amdirlain. “Should I play a new song instead? Maybe try to inspire a different effect? I don’t exactly have an instruction manual for this thing. I could try my upgraded Resonance on it and see if I can detect what you learned, but it’ll likely only tell me what energies are within it, not necessarily how to interact with them.”
“Resonance is a starting point, and it might give you a clue,” stated Sarah. “You already jumped head first into playing the harp once.”
“In my defence, it was supposed to be a training instrument, but you got me on the second time,” said Amdirlain, raising her hands in mock surrender. “My instincts tell me to finish the song, but we can take baby steps. Or I can talk to him.”
“Are you sure he’ll be able to help with this divine harp?”
Amdirlain smiled. “He got to come to the realm for a few reasons. One is he supplied Ori with the details of how to implement the realm’s magical system in the first place. If anyone alive can tell me about the harp, it’s him.”
“That actually sounds the safest route,” said Sarah, and tension eased from her form.
“Bahamut, would you care to visit now and meet Livia? I’d also appreciate some help with a divine artefact.”
“If you would meet me at the mountain’s base?” requested Bahamut. “I’m not rude enough to appear directly in another’s Domain. Perhaps we can talk on the way to her manor, or afterwards.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it. I’ll wait at the end of the central road between the fields,” replied Amdirlain.
Bahamut’s attention withdrew, and Sarah sheepishly shook her head. “You speak to him so casually, and I don’t know if that’s you being a gamer girl or an informality you inherited. Syl heard Ori scold him once, and I’m unsure who was more surprised, Syl or him.”
“What did she scold him about?”
“The creation of space dragons,” said Sarah. “Ori was so put out that she didn’t get to contribute more, so she one-upped him and made star dragons.”
Amdirlain let out a low whistle. “They sound like a cool species. Are they awesome? I haven’t seen anything related to those in the surfaced memories yet. Do I want to know how big they get?”
“Star dragons?” enquired Sarah, and she smiled at Amdirlain’s eager nod. “If they curled into a ball, a Great Wyrm would be bigger than Earth’s Moon. At that age, they can kill the eldritch drifters like the one Mars pulverised. Their breath weapon carries the intensity of a solar flare in a kilometres-wide beam.”
“Cool,” breathed Amdirlain, grinning at the thought of a Dragon that large.
The wide-eyed look of glee on Amdirlain’s face drew a chuckle from Sarah. “You’re such a Dragon fangirl.”
“Dragon posters are far better than unicorn posters,” asserted Amdirlain. “He said shortly, but I’ve no idea what that would be on his scale. Do we go down now and wait, or should I listen out for him?”
“I’m sure he’s aware you’re still planning based on Mortal timescales,” advised Sarah. “But that doesn’t mean it will be minutes before he arrives.”
Amdirlain shyly extended a hand to Sarah, and when she clasped it, they reappeared at the end of the road. The fields were empty of workers, a gentle breeze causing the long grass beyond the fields to sway slowly. Though there was no sign of Bahamut, Amdirlain sent Livia a tentative advisory, saying she expected him to drop in at some point.
“You seem to have relaxed about Livia’s Mantle,” noted Sarah after they’d stood quietly for a few minutes; neither had moved to release the other’s hand.
“Custodian has come through already. Livia’s got connections to other worlds, one of which feels like another entity is supporting it,” advised Amdirlain.
“A divine sponsor?”
Amdirlain shrugged uncertainly. “It could just be a stronger Mantle holder, but there is a dim secondary echo like someone was bracing the link.”
“You didn’t ask,” noted Sarah.
“That’s because it’s not my business,” replied Amdirlain. “I’ve made sure she’s not going to die suddenly, and now she’s able to stand on her own two feet.”
Silence returned, and neither felt compelled to indulge in small talk, enjoying the other’s presence while they soaked in the sunshine.
Despite Bahamut having said ‘soon’ their wait ran past the hour and continued with no word. In the comfortable silence that enveloped them, more memories niggled at the back of Amdirlain’s mind, like half-remembered tunes or a missing filling annoying her tongue. Yet despite their background hiss, none came flooding forth.
Like server lag, you raise a ticket to the support staff, and things behave again. At least waiting in the sunshine is a better experience than listening to ‘hold music’.
It feels nice to hold Sarah’s hand. I hope I’m not being clingy. Is it because I’ve starved myself of physical contact? Or simply the newness of things with the bandage off my eyes? Or am I subconsciously trying to cause problems? Are there too many emotions from memories and Sarah?
“I feel like we’re the naughty children waiting for the headmaster to show up,” muttered Sarah.
Amdirlain grinned. “He’s not the messiah, he’s just a very naughty boy.”
Their mutual laughter sent nearby birds flying away.
Did she mean I’m holding her hand too much?
“Should I let go of your hand?” asked Amdirlain nervously.
“I’m enjoying it, so only if you want to,” replied Sarah, and she transformed into the silvery-haired male Elf again. “Does this help you relax?”
The light tenor shivered up Amdirlain’s spine.
“Yes,” sighed Amdirlain.
“Don’t be hard on yourself,” said Sarah, and she shoulder-bumped Amdirlain and let the silence between them return.
I’m being an idiot and risking crushing my friend’s heart. Stop! Stop! Stop! Negative thoughts are bad, especially when all these emotions are going on. I’ll wait for these emotional waves to ease before deciding.
What could go wrong? No! Why did I ask myself that?
When another blade of self-doubt rose, Amdirlain drew her attention away from the forest and listened to Sarah’s emotions. Their warmth washed through Amdirlain and made the sunlight feel cold in comparison, despite the sharpness and hard edges present within Sarah’s tones.
We both have scars. Why can I accept hers and flinch from my own?