A

Alaric Wulf

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Weaver
The dawn was just breaking through the clouds, dusting the ground with pale sunlight. Though it was early, there was plenty of activity spurred on by the breakage of clouds. Rain had drenched the ground overnight, and small pools of water were scattered, enough to soak an ill placed boot. Alaric cleared the entrance of the Knoll, the storm cloud on his face falling into a more pleasant, if not cold, smile. With a steady deliberate pace, he grabbed a plate and scattered a handful of various fruits and a rogue biscuit. His cup though, was full the brim with amber colored mead. A heavy drink for first thing in the morning, but he cared little.

He chose a fairly empty spot to place himself, not paying too much attention to those around him. If approached, he knew how to slip on the mask of the man he used to be. He hoped he could remain in his own shadow; the effort it took him to don that mask was a large drain on his energy. His mind was a hellscape, and no one knew it. He needed them to keep believing that there was nothing wrong, it was much easier that way. He rolled the fruit around his plate in an effort to portray his hunger, though he almost felt a disdain at the activity.

As always, his thoughts drifted, lingering on the things that hurt him most. This time, they touched the sore spot that had been his best friend and his former lover. He knew it was his fault, that he had caused her pain and she had deserved more from him. He regretted the way he had gone about leaving her, he hadn't had the balls to even tell her himself. He had left her a letter, one that was sparse of any real substance or reason. He left then, a months long journey so as not to have to face her. She was better off though, even if he had hurt her. She deserved more than what he had to offer, he was nothing.

He reached for his cup, taking a long swallow before setting it down with a soft thump. He barely registered the taste; this one cup was nothing to him anymore. His built-up tolerance came at the cost of many nights left unremembered. A strawberry rolled off his plate and onto the floor, causing him to curse softly and bend to retrieve it. Great, his day was already starting off to a wonderful start.

@Saskia Kerraelas
 
When Alaric would duck and reach for the fallen strawberry, it would be nowhere for him to find.

Only when he would sit upright would he see Saskia seated before him, a frown on her face as she stared at him. She had been as quiet as the shadows that took his strawberry, and a tendril rolled over the space between them and the small berry tumbled towards him.

"So," the singular syllable held so much contempt, more than could be gleaned from her expression, "you are back."

She had read his letter. Had laughed it off for days until her anger reared inside her and she took it out in her training. Had retired two sacks full of sand before Gruki decided to distract her away from anger. The drinking had been innocent, time to spend with friends and try to forget him but it was the late nights when she was alone...

But she was not alone, not truly. Never alone in the witching hour, in the shadow of the moon.

Her shadows spoke to her, reminded her that she was equally at fault for Alaric to leave, that the hurt they both felt had been inflicted upon themselves and each other.

Saskia made many attempts to move on from him. To forget him.

And now he was here. Without any notice, she had seen him at the Solstice celebrations and quickly left after Monroe had abandoned her. She had decided then she would not deal with it then, but now... now she was ready.

Or maybe she was still angry.
 
Weary eyes searched for the fallen strawberry, a sigh escaping his lips. Giving up, he resumed his upright position at the table, jaw clenching as he realized who had taken the seat opposite of him. He swallowed another mouthful of mead as she spoke, his missing fruit tumbling across the table to rest against his plate.

Every word she spoke made his spirits sink lower, his face paling at the confrontation. Of course he would run into her again at some point, but he had hoped to avoid her at all costs to avoid this type of awkward situation. He knew that wasn't very mature of him, but he couldn't help but hold onto the thought.

Alaric set his cup down gently, as if the sturdy material would crumble if he was too rough on it. His eyes rose to meet hers, and he leaned back just slightly. He studied her for a moment, still as beautiful as when he had last touched her skin, kissed her soft lips. His thoughts trailed off and he shook his head slightly to clear it.

"So it would seem."


She sounded accusatory, he sounded nonchalant. There was a charge in the air, and it seemed as if they were the only ones in the room. It was very possible that this conversation could sail south easily and with aggression. Alaric broke his gaze, picking up a grape, holding it between his forefinger and thumb.
"You look well."
Though his gaze made it seem as if he were speaking to the grape, and not the woman before him. He squashed the fruit between his fingers, watching the juice run down his skin and onto the plate.
"Do you want to have this conversation here, or shall we move elsewhere?" His voice was flat and monotone, his face devoid of emotion, and yet internally he was sweating, his stomach churning at the confrontation. He couldn't exactly run away from her now.

@Saskia Kerraelas
 
Her eyes stayed on his face. She delighted in the fact he could not keep her stare, taking the triumphs where ever she could.

"Oh, we can most certainly stay here and talk. I for one am not afraid of speaking before others no matter how hurtful the subject could be." It felt good to exercise her anger this way. Her words were a knife, looking to wound, and Saskia had wasted enough time wallowing in the absence Alaric had left her in.

But she was Saskia Kerraelas, the Shadow Knight. She was the absence, and it was time she made him realise that.

Her fingers drummed against the table, a steady beat that clacked with her long, strong nails. "At least if we are in public, I can be held accountable for what I could do to you... but I do not want to fall into trouble because of you either." Her spine straightened, as still her eyes were on his face.

Her eyes darted from each of his, searching for something other than this indifference. She wouldn't believe it of him. Not when she had spent years seeing his eyes light up with every emotion a human could experience. This steel he stared with was nothing she knew well. He had worn this expression some weeks before he disappeared, but for him to wear it still?

To hide behind indifference was a move made by cowards.

"You hurt me, Alaric. You made me hate myself. That there was something wrong with me."
 
Alaric could feel her eyes on him, and he lifted his to meet them briefly. Her words were angry, even if her tone wasn't. He lifted his hands, palms up in surrender as he scooted his plate away.
"That's fine, we can talk here if that's what you want."
He knew that she was looking to wound him with words, though she would probably be equally satisfied with causing him some physical pain as well. Again, he didn't blame her. It was a pretty shitty thing to run away instead of confronting the issue head on.

He watched her fingers tap the table, a dry laugh escaping him. He looked up at her cocking his head slightly.
"As angry as you probably are, I don't doubt you'd want to hurt me back anyway you could. Can't say I blame you for it either. If you wanted to hurt me though, I doubt us being in public would stop you."

There was a glimmer of sadness, swiftly hidden away again. Alaric did feel badly for what he had done, he was afraid of facing her. They had been friends since they were children, then lovers. It's not easy to tell someone like that how you feel. He ran a heavy hand across his face, a sigh escaping him.
"I'm sorry I hurt you. I went about it in the wrong way, and you deserved more than a letter, but that does not change the fact that I needed to step away from our relationship. I think you know that we both needed it to end."

@Saskia Kerraelas
 
Anger made her not believe him at first, but Saskia was aware of the many stares they were getting already. For months and months she had been in a darkness that her own shadows fed upon. All because of him leaving, not giving her a chance to fight for them...


He was right. In the end, the two of them were not as perfect as they tried to desperately cling to.

"We never had that conversation Alaric. I think we need to. Here, right now. It is only because there are others present that will make me not throttle you... even though it would be satisfying and cathartic for me." She sighed, but when she looked to him with a frown, he would see that whatever anger she held was beginning to simmer.

She cleared her throat, dropping her gaze and shrugging. "I guess... I was jealous you were talking to other girls and they were pretty and that may have been silly of me to put my frustrations onto you and not talk about it..."

It was a start of an apology, but it always took her some time to come to terms with why she felt things a certain way. She needed to speak and communicate in a way that made her feel as if she were conveying the right message.
 
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