He flinched as her hand touched his. For an instant his gaze was drawn to her face, a small smile across her face. What crossed his mind was conflict. His eyes were drawn to her one moment and pulled away the next.
The Xaela glanced away, though he did not pull his hand from hers. Not immediately.
“...it is only to be used for the sake of identifying oneself among other Khadai,†he said, his tone now tired. The blizzard seemed to relent just a tad, as if courteously sensing the mood. “Else, Khadai is who I am.†He did not want to admit it, but for a single second when his attention was pulled towards her, he saw someone else.
Representative. Of a world he did not belong in. He knew the risks, going on this venture. There would be no others with him, for they would be sent across the world. The West. The East. North. South. Others, like him, braving not just dangers and unfamiliar lands, but isolation, loneliness, and...a certain heartache as well. To save those people with whom he felt he belonged, and were now so far away that they may as well be naught but memories, figments of the imagination.
Resolve. Patience. Determination. These were virtues. And with them, he had endured many a long day and solemn nights on the Western continent, this land he did not know. This land he could not partake in.
A different world.
Searching for something he did not know and could not locate. He was certain that it existed, but beyond that? Where it lay? If he could find it within this lifetime? Would it be that his purpose was meaningless, that he was to live out his days in this land, endlessly searching for what would allow him to return to where he felt he belonged?
There was a dark place in his mind, of fear. Fear of forgetting. What it felt like to be in one’s role, certain of one’s place, and to know all others felt that same certainty.
Solidarity.
He pulled his hand away, his gaze fixed to the wall again.
One hand reached up to rest against the crossguard of the blade leaning against his shoulder.
The other clasped the runestone in his tabard.
He closed his eyes, and breathed.
The Xaela glanced away, though he did not pull his hand from hers. Not immediately.
“...it is only to be used for the sake of identifying oneself among other Khadai,†he said, his tone now tired. The blizzard seemed to relent just a tad, as if courteously sensing the mood. “Else, Khadai is who I am.†He did not want to admit it, but for a single second when his attention was pulled towards her, he saw someone else.
Representative. Of a world he did not belong in. He knew the risks, going on this venture. There would be no others with him, for they would be sent across the world. The West. The East. North. South. Others, like him, braving not just dangers and unfamiliar lands, but isolation, loneliness, and...a certain heartache as well. To save those people with whom he felt he belonged, and were now so far away that they may as well be naught but memories, figments of the imagination.
Resolve. Patience. Determination. These were virtues. And with them, he had endured many a long day and solemn nights on the Western continent, this land he did not know. This land he could not partake in.
A different world.
Searching for something he did not know and could not locate. He was certain that it existed, but beyond that? Where it lay? If he could find it within this lifetime? Would it be that his purpose was meaningless, that he was to live out his days in this land, endlessly searching for what would allow him to return to where he felt he belonged?
There was a dark place in his mind, of fear. Fear of forgetting. What it felt like to be in one’s role, certain of one’s place, and to know all others felt that same certainty.
Solidarity.
He pulled his hand away, his gaze fixed to the wall again.
One hand reached up to rest against the crossguard of the blade leaning against his shoulder.
The other clasped the runestone in his tabard.
He closed his eyes, and breathed.
