Dryad Eyes, part 36.
Word Count: 3,273. w00t!
This entry might contain something that might be somewhat adult oriented, so be advised. I will personally slap any of you who fap to my work. Just sayin!
To say that Treyp's blood was up would have been something of an understatement. For what seemed like hours, she had been cooped up in the empty room that she and Kurik had appropriated in order to hide in while Lithia recovered and they plotted their next move. The swordsman had left a while ago, hoping to find Geran. They needed allies to deal with the demon, and who better than the Battle King, no? So while the Lithuain girl tossed, turned and sometimes moaned or murmured in her sleep, the dryad was in turn pacing, frantic, angry, fretting, enraged and a hundred other variations of those same two, basic emotions. Fear. Anger. Based on what she knew of the girl's abilities, Treyp had already guessed that her tumultuous state of mind was the result of some sort of feedback from those troubled dreams. The question was, what could she do about it? She was nearly at the end of her rope.
Pacing about the room, she found herself returning repeatedly to the door, which, against what she and Kurik had agreed, she continually opened to gaze out and down the hall. Sometime, she was not even certain as to exactly when, her eyes had begun to come back. Solid, stationary objects remained obscured in deep blackness, but light and motion were visible to her now. Where normally the return of her sight came with a sense of elation, what she experienced now was further consternation that did not need Lithia's help to put down roots. The better her vision became, the less clearly she could mark the presence of the demon that had attacked them. When she had been perfectly blind, it had been the only thing that she could see. Now it was partially obscured and becoming more difficult to pinpoint. They had so few weapons against it, barring Geran's involvement (and what if the monster had already bent his will? Charis' had!), they could ill afford to lose any minor advantage they happened to have.
Closing her eyes, Treyp forced her panicked breathing to slow. That was it, she decided, something had to be done to interrupt this before she went insane. She pulled the door shut and moved to Lithia's bedside, picking up the cup full of clear, cool water from the small table that she had carried over from a room across the hall. When the Keep had been abandoned so many years ago, whoever had left it had left quite a few things behind. Most of the empty rooms, and there were hundreds of them that had not been explored, had at least a bed, sometimes a few other pieces of furniture, and in rare instances, clothing, personal belongs. Treyp remembered Geran saying that, once, he had found a dusty plate full of old, untouched food that had been set out on a table in one of those rooms.
Placing a careful, gentle hand on Lithia's bed, the dryad girl felt around until she found the sleeping one's shoulder. "Lithia? Lithia!"
"Huh... hrrmm?" was the redhead's oh-so-articulate response. Treyp breathed a sigh of relief. The extra stress had slid off her shoulders almost immediately upon the opening of the girl's eyes.
"Shh, you were having a nightmare. Thirsty?"
"Uh-huh."
Treyp propped Lithia's head up with her hand so that she could drink a swallow, then two, and then a third. It was painfully obvious that this reprieve from the nightmare-induced-magic-use would not last, however. The Lithuain girl could barely keep her eyes open the entire time, and was already drifting once again into the realm of dreams when Treyp lowered her head back against the pillow. With a pained sigh, the dryad decided that she would have to be content to enjoy the stillness while it lasted, and then to endure the hammering heart and storm of emotions that would follow.
Flopping back into the chair that sat just beyond the table beside Lithia's bed, Treyp let her head fall back against the backrest and closed her eyes. Even then, she already knew, the demon's location would be somewhat obscured from her. The insides of her eyelids were more solid, though less all consuming, than the blackness she perceived when blind. Another sigh escaped her lips, this one born of frustration. So much had happened over these past couple of weeks. It seemed as though a lifetime had passed since the night she had enjoyed at Big Thom's tavern, singing bawdy songs and dancing with a young man whose name she had never learned. Then had come the attack on her, executed by a group of mercenaries whom were lead by the man who had become the very same vile, demonic thing that had begun haunting Keeper's Gateway. How she wished she could determine what it was up to! It was marking people, that much was certain. The meeting she had had with Charis, in which Geran's bride-to-be had shown before her blind eyes with the same inhuman light as the demon itself, had confirmed that.
Dimly, as she ran through all that had happened in her mind, Treyp was aware that she was beginning to drift off. She had not wanted to. When one was faced with the possibility that she might be attacked at any moment by a creature that seemed to be able to be anywhere it pleased, it was a better idea, in her opinion, to remain vigilant. She had, however, recently been mortally wounded, and was only a few days out of what had almost been her own deathbed. That, combined with the stress of all that had happened since she had discovered Charis' condition, left her exhausted, and that was catching up with her now.
A dream began taking shape as her mind began to drift. It was a strange feeling, being aware of that process, but it was not the first time for her. She briefly remembered the intense, too-real dream that she had had of her father shortly after receiving her injuries. It did not stick, however, as she felt herself drawn to a particular location for this new, less real, but still intense dream setting. Three arrows protruded from her body, a nasty cut ran along her ribs on her right side, and she lay back on the cold, stone steps of some nondescript building, assuming an awkward position to avoid aggravating her injuries.
Great, Treyp thought. Of all the moments in her life that she could have revisited in this strangely lucid dream, it had to be this one, when she had almost died in the cold.
There were a few subtle differences, of course. For starters, her wounds were inverted; the arrow on her right had been on her left. She also had not been naked, originally. Once again, she cursed the poor choice of settings as the cold air, in a world so vivid that she could almost really feel it, caressed the soft contours of her body. That was not fair. Remembering the course of events, and not caring for the deviations that had occurred so far, Treyp gritted her teeth and hauled herself to her feet.
Across the long, dark, deserted street from where she stood was a building with a warm light filling its windows. Okay, that was something that she could get behind. Staggering toward that so inviting light, she planned to knock on the door, to hammer on it, and to knock it down if there was no answer. She paused, however, in the center of the street when the door swung open and a familiar figure stepped into view.
"Matthew?" Treyp's eyes went wide, and she was suddenly oh-so-very aware of her nudity.
"Treyp," he answered. A smile touched his handsome face, and he held out a hand to her, beckoning. A wonderful wash of warmth from within the building followed his outstretched fingers and flowed out, into the street, where it banished the chill from her skin. The arrows, the wounds, fell away from her as well and, as the warmth sank even deeper into her body, her muscles, her very bones, the dryad smiled. Now this... this was a dream that she could really get behind.
For a long, wonderful moment, she simply stood still and soaked it in. The radiance of Matthew's invitation filled her to the brim, and then spilled over, leaving her feeling so very alive and awake (even though she was still dreaming, wasn't she?). At last, when she opened her eyes, she fixed her gaze on him with an intensity born of a fire that had been ignited within her. She took a step forward, then another. A very specific, deliberate purpose urged her heels forward, and something predatory in the sway of her hips. Dream, reality, what happened, what did not; these things no longer made any sense as her rational mind had been swept away in the face of the sweet, aching heat that had burrowed into and through her.
Matthew's face changed as she drew near. The smile that had been so sure and ready a moment before became bewildered, then concerned, and then, if she was not mistaken, outright frightened. What was there to worry about? she wondered, and then resolved to put his mind at ease. He was probably simply confused because of the odd tension that entered their odd not-relationship. In that moment, there was no doubt within her. There was no tension. For the first time in several weeks, she knew exactly what she wanted.
When his outstretched fingers touched her shoulders, and flattened as if he might try to hold her at bay, she brushed his hand aside and placed her own upon his shoulders. Exerting her superior strength, she pushed him back and to the side, planting him firmly against the wall to one side of the open door. Then, in a fluid motion, she slid forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her body against his. Still he seemed shocked, confused, and Treyp growled at him in frustration. In the very instant a protest appeared on his lips, she killed it with her own, kissing him with a passion fueled by all of the fire that had been lit within her.
Squirming about, he finally managed to squeeze a hand between them and placed it on her chest-- that's the idea! she thought-- and pushed her back, just a little, so that he could breathe. "Treyp! What the bloody hell are you doing?!"
Jarred, Treyp froze. That voice... it was not right at all. It was not Matthew's. Truth be told, the kiss did not seem to be one of his, either. Leaning back from him just a bit, simultaneously catching her breath, she allowed her eyes to crack open. Then, twice, she blinked, and on the second, her eyes were clear and open wide. She had even more of her vision back than before, and what she saw was not the face she expected in any way, shape, or form.
"Kurik?!" She asked, her voice sharp.
"Yes!" He agreed, his relief evident. "Kurik! No kiss-y! Bad!"
"But--!"
"No buts!" Kurik growled, pushing her back. This time Treyp allowed herself to be moved back without a struggle. She was, in fact, busy at that moment, checking herself over. Thank the Gods, she was thinking, that she was not actually naked. That did a little to lessen the embarrassment; not enough, but a little. She remembered that she had been dreaming, and realized that she must have gotten carried away.
That, too, would have been something of an understatement.
"Listen, Treyp, I know I'm an attractive guy, and all, but seriously," Kurik was saying, keeping his hands up. It was not quite a fighter's pose, but it was clear that he did not intend to be unwillingly cornered again. "Even if your Uncle wouldn't kill me, I've got Talitha, and I love her. Okay?"
"Oh, be still." She snapped, embarrassment leading to anger. Another time, in another situation, she might have been amused at his apparent ego. This time it only added fuel to the fire. Well, a fire, but not that fire. That one was still burning, only slightly abated, and making it difficult to clear her head. Intense was the only word she had for what she had just experienced, and, silently, she kept repeating it to herself. That was intense. "You're an ass. I didn't... I thought you were Matthew."
"Clearly, because he and I look so much alike," his response dripped sarcasm, infuriating her even further. She crushed the feeling though, doing her best to regain, not retain, her composure. "You were looking right at me, Treyp."
"I. Was asleep." The dryad girl spoke slowly, deliberately. In spite of her attempts, a little bit of her temper leaked into her voice. It did not intimidate Kurik-- nobody in their company intimidated easily, mind-- but it was enough to get him to listen for a moment. He did not relish the idea of fighting this girl whom he had no desire to hurt, and whose uncle Geran would take the incident personally. Treyp turned, stepping even further away from the swordsman in the process, and gestured at Lithia. "It's her. All day, she has been having nightmares. Anger, fear... it's been bleeding off on me, I think, because of her abilities. She doesn't have them completely under control when she's like this."
"You know, that wouldn't surprise me at all, but what you just laid on me wasn't exactly 'horror' or 'rage.'" Kurik rubbed at his chin, left unshaven for several days. "At least, not from your end. Scared eight of the nine hells out of me."
"Wellllll...," Treyp dragged out the word, her tone saying louder-than-words that she should not have to spell this out for him. "Maybe she isn't exactly having a 'scary' dream just now."
"Then what... Oh." It dawned on him, mid-sentence. "I think I see what you're saying."
"Do you really?" It was her turn to be sarcastic. "Wow! Maybe you're not as stupid as Geran says you are."
"Be nice, Treyp."
"I was," she snapped. "Not that I had any actual choice in the matter."
"That wasn't my fault. You can stop trying to take it out on me."
Her response was somewhere between a grunt and a growl, and she looked away, folding her arms over her breasts. He was right. It was not his fault, and it was not him with whom she was angry. Annoyed would be a better word for what she felt toward him, because he was an egotistical jerk, but not angry. She was not even particularly angry at Lithia. While the redhead had, technically, caused the situation, it was not as if she could help herself at the moment. No, when one got right down to it, Treyp was less angry and more... flustered. That was a good word for it. It was, in fact, a very good word for it.
"Listen, Treyp." Kurik began, breaking the silence that had begun to stretch out between them. "I've known your Uncle for a long time. You're not the first of his blood relatives that I've met. In my experience... Dryad blood tends to run a little hot, if you know what I mean. You're a passionate people. You're angry when you're angry, you're afraid when you're afraid, you're... well, you get my drift."
"Okay... are you trying to make a point?"
"Just that, maybe, you are a little more susceptible to her power than some of us." Walking past her, Kurik deftly undid the buckles that held his swords in place at his hips and leaned them against the table. Then he unceremoniously dumped himself into the chair in which Treyp had fallen asleep. "Your eyes seem to be working again, so you go look. I will watch over her for a while."
The dryad girl stared at him for a good, long time. Then, finally, she nodded, and began putting her thoughts in order as she walked around to the far side of the bed to find the boots Andrek had brought her before returning to his duties as a courier. He had wanted to stay and help, but both she and Kurik had insisted that it would be better if they all behaved as normally as possible. In truth, they simply had not wanted to drag somebody that was innocent and effectively incapable of defending themselves into the middle of such a dire situation.
"I take it, by his absence, that you didn't find Geran."
"Good thing, don't you think?"
"Uh-huh."
"If you want a suggestion, you might start at his room again--"
"If you couldn't find my uncle, I doubt I will be able to." Treyp sat on the soft edge of the bed as she laced up her boots. "I will find somebody else to help us, and we can hope he turns up soon."
"Who are you going to look for, then?"
"...Matthew."
"Treyp..."
"Shut up."
"Listen, it's none of my business. But we have more important things to worry about today than getting lai---"
"By the Gods, I know!" Twisting about, Treyp snatched one of the extra pillows from its resting place near, but not under, Lithia's head and hurled it at Kurik. "I trust Matthew, and so do you. Jerk! He is one of the deadliest men in the Keep, and if we have to face something we don't quite know how to kill, whether we find my Uncle or not, I want that guy with me!"
"Hey! Okay, okay." The swordsman's quick hands kept him from taking the pillow to the face. She had been aiming for the half-grin that had appeared there when he spoke. He slapped it aside and then held his hands up in a peace-making gesture. "I'm sorry, okay? Fine. Go get Matthew. You're right. I was just worried, that's all."
"Don't be."
Treyp's movements were sharp, with more strength than was necessary behind them. When her boots were comfortably in place, she stood up. Then, rather than make for the door in the interests of making a quick departure, as was her want, she turned around, leaned over the bed, and touched Lithia's face while murmuring words of encouragement in the dryad tongue. It was a comforting motion. Years ago, every time she had felt ill or sad or whatever else, the Eldest Sister Ytyrra had always been there with the same comforting hand and words for her. After a moment, satisfied, and surprised that the little kindness she had hoped to share with the girl had actually gone far toward calming herself down as well, Treyp turned away from the bed and left the room. Pointedly, she did not even glance in Kurik's direction. She was only a little calmer, and did not want to ruin it by having to deal with him again.
For his part, the swordsman was content to let her leave without a word. However, once she disappeared from view, his little smirk returned. Sometimes, he simply could not help himself, and having already dealt with the worst of the situation, his sense of humor had returned in full force. Waiting for a moment, he counted her footfalls until she was a comfortable distance away, and then spoke in a conversational voice. "Have fun when you find him, but don't take too long."
"Ass!" She cried in response from a good distance down the hallway, and Kurik snickered. Her ears might be even better than Geran's, he decided.
Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome. This is, as usual, self edited, so let me know if you see a mistake that needs fixing!
This entry might contain something that might be somewhat adult oriented, so be advised. I will personally slap any of you who fap to my work. Just sayin!
To say that Treyp's blood was up would have been something of an understatement. For what seemed like hours, she had been cooped up in the empty room that she and Kurik had appropriated in order to hide in while Lithia recovered and they plotted their next move. The swordsman had left a while ago, hoping to find Geran. They needed allies to deal with the demon, and who better than the Battle King, no? So while the Lithuain girl tossed, turned and sometimes moaned or murmured in her sleep, the dryad was in turn pacing, frantic, angry, fretting, enraged and a hundred other variations of those same two, basic emotions. Fear. Anger. Based on what she knew of the girl's abilities, Treyp had already guessed that her tumultuous state of mind was the result of some sort of feedback from those troubled dreams. The question was, what could she do about it? She was nearly at the end of her rope.
Pacing about the room, she found herself returning repeatedly to the door, which, against what she and Kurik had agreed, she continually opened to gaze out and down the hall. Sometime, she was not even certain as to exactly when, her eyes had begun to come back. Solid, stationary objects remained obscured in deep blackness, but light and motion were visible to her now. Where normally the return of her sight came with a sense of elation, what she experienced now was further consternation that did not need Lithia's help to put down roots. The better her vision became, the less clearly she could mark the presence of the demon that had attacked them. When she had been perfectly blind, it had been the only thing that she could see. Now it was partially obscured and becoming more difficult to pinpoint. They had so few weapons against it, barring Geran's involvement (and what if the monster had already bent his will? Charis' had!), they could ill afford to lose any minor advantage they happened to have.
Closing her eyes, Treyp forced her panicked breathing to slow. That was it, she decided, something had to be done to interrupt this before she went insane. She pulled the door shut and moved to Lithia's bedside, picking up the cup full of clear, cool water from the small table that she had carried over from a room across the hall. When the Keep had been abandoned so many years ago, whoever had left it had left quite a few things behind. Most of the empty rooms, and there were hundreds of them that had not been explored, had at least a bed, sometimes a few other pieces of furniture, and in rare instances, clothing, personal belongs. Treyp remembered Geran saying that, once, he had found a dusty plate full of old, untouched food that had been set out on a table in one of those rooms.
Placing a careful, gentle hand on Lithia's bed, the dryad girl felt around until she found the sleeping one's shoulder. "Lithia? Lithia!"
"Huh... hrrmm?" was the redhead's oh-so-articulate response. Treyp breathed a sigh of relief. The extra stress had slid off her shoulders almost immediately upon the opening of the girl's eyes.
"Shh, you were having a nightmare. Thirsty?"
"Uh-huh."
Treyp propped Lithia's head up with her hand so that she could drink a swallow, then two, and then a third. It was painfully obvious that this reprieve from the nightmare-induced-magic-use would not last, however. The Lithuain girl could barely keep her eyes open the entire time, and was already drifting once again into the realm of dreams when Treyp lowered her head back against the pillow. With a pained sigh, the dryad decided that she would have to be content to enjoy the stillness while it lasted, and then to endure the hammering heart and storm of emotions that would follow.
Flopping back into the chair that sat just beyond the table beside Lithia's bed, Treyp let her head fall back against the backrest and closed her eyes. Even then, she already knew, the demon's location would be somewhat obscured from her. The insides of her eyelids were more solid, though less all consuming, than the blackness she perceived when blind. Another sigh escaped her lips, this one born of frustration. So much had happened over these past couple of weeks. It seemed as though a lifetime had passed since the night she had enjoyed at Big Thom's tavern, singing bawdy songs and dancing with a young man whose name she had never learned. Then had come the attack on her, executed by a group of mercenaries whom were lead by the man who had become the very same vile, demonic thing that had begun haunting Keeper's Gateway. How she wished she could determine what it was up to! It was marking people, that much was certain. The meeting she had had with Charis, in which Geran's bride-to-be had shown before her blind eyes with the same inhuman light as the demon itself, had confirmed that.
Dimly, as she ran through all that had happened in her mind, Treyp was aware that she was beginning to drift off. She had not wanted to. When one was faced with the possibility that she might be attacked at any moment by a creature that seemed to be able to be anywhere it pleased, it was a better idea, in her opinion, to remain vigilant. She had, however, recently been mortally wounded, and was only a few days out of what had almost been her own deathbed. That, combined with the stress of all that had happened since she had discovered Charis' condition, left her exhausted, and that was catching up with her now.
A dream began taking shape as her mind began to drift. It was a strange feeling, being aware of that process, but it was not the first time for her. She briefly remembered the intense, too-real dream that she had had of her father shortly after receiving her injuries. It did not stick, however, as she felt herself drawn to a particular location for this new, less real, but still intense dream setting. Three arrows protruded from her body, a nasty cut ran along her ribs on her right side, and she lay back on the cold, stone steps of some nondescript building, assuming an awkward position to avoid aggravating her injuries.
Great, Treyp thought. Of all the moments in her life that she could have revisited in this strangely lucid dream, it had to be this one, when she had almost died in the cold.
There were a few subtle differences, of course. For starters, her wounds were inverted; the arrow on her right had been on her left. She also had not been naked, originally. Once again, she cursed the poor choice of settings as the cold air, in a world so vivid that she could almost really feel it, caressed the soft contours of her body. That was not fair. Remembering the course of events, and not caring for the deviations that had occurred so far, Treyp gritted her teeth and hauled herself to her feet.
Across the long, dark, deserted street from where she stood was a building with a warm light filling its windows. Okay, that was something that she could get behind. Staggering toward that so inviting light, she planned to knock on the door, to hammer on it, and to knock it down if there was no answer. She paused, however, in the center of the street when the door swung open and a familiar figure stepped into view.
"Matthew?" Treyp's eyes went wide, and she was suddenly oh-so-very aware of her nudity.
"Treyp," he answered. A smile touched his handsome face, and he held out a hand to her, beckoning. A wonderful wash of warmth from within the building followed his outstretched fingers and flowed out, into the street, where it banished the chill from her skin. The arrows, the wounds, fell away from her as well and, as the warmth sank even deeper into her body, her muscles, her very bones, the dryad smiled. Now this... this was a dream that she could really get behind.
For a long, wonderful moment, she simply stood still and soaked it in. The radiance of Matthew's invitation filled her to the brim, and then spilled over, leaving her feeling so very alive and awake (even though she was still dreaming, wasn't she?). At last, when she opened her eyes, she fixed her gaze on him with an intensity born of a fire that had been ignited within her. She took a step forward, then another. A very specific, deliberate purpose urged her heels forward, and something predatory in the sway of her hips. Dream, reality, what happened, what did not; these things no longer made any sense as her rational mind had been swept away in the face of the sweet, aching heat that had burrowed into and through her.
Matthew's face changed as she drew near. The smile that had been so sure and ready a moment before became bewildered, then concerned, and then, if she was not mistaken, outright frightened. What was there to worry about? she wondered, and then resolved to put his mind at ease. He was probably simply confused because of the odd tension that entered their odd not-relationship. In that moment, there was no doubt within her. There was no tension. For the first time in several weeks, she knew exactly what she wanted.
When his outstretched fingers touched her shoulders, and flattened as if he might try to hold her at bay, she brushed his hand aside and placed her own upon his shoulders. Exerting her superior strength, she pushed him back and to the side, planting him firmly against the wall to one side of the open door. Then, in a fluid motion, she slid forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her body against his. Still he seemed shocked, confused, and Treyp growled at him in frustration. In the very instant a protest appeared on his lips, she killed it with her own, kissing him with a passion fueled by all of the fire that had been lit within her.
Squirming about, he finally managed to squeeze a hand between them and placed it on her chest-- that's the idea! she thought-- and pushed her back, just a little, so that he could breathe. "Treyp! What the bloody hell are you doing?!"
Jarred, Treyp froze. That voice... it was not right at all. It was not Matthew's. Truth be told, the kiss did not seem to be one of his, either. Leaning back from him just a bit, simultaneously catching her breath, she allowed her eyes to crack open. Then, twice, she blinked, and on the second, her eyes were clear and open wide. She had even more of her vision back than before, and what she saw was not the face she expected in any way, shape, or form.
"Kurik?!" She asked, her voice sharp.
"Yes!" He agreed, his relief evident. "Kurik! No kiss-y! Bad!"
"But--!"
"No buts!" Kurik growled, pushing her back. This time Treyp allowed herself to be moved back without a struggle. She was, in fact, busy at that moment, checking herself over. Thank the Gods, she was thinking, that she was not actually naked. That did a little to lessen the embarrassment; not enough, but a little. She remembered that she had been dreaming, and realized that she must have gotten carried away.
That, too, would have been something of an understatement.
"Listen, Treyp, I know I'm an attractive guy, and all, but seriously," Kurik was saying, keeping his hands up. It was not quite a fighter's pose, but it was clear that he did not intend to be unwillingly cornered again. "Even if your Uncle wouldn't kill me, I've got Talitha, and I love her. Okay?"
"Oh, be still." She snapped, embarrassment leading to anger. Another time, in another situation, she might have been amused at his apparent ego. This time it only added fuel to the fire. Well, a fire, but not that fire. That one was still burning, only slightly abated, and making it difficult to clear her head. Intense was the only word she had for what she had just experienced, and, silently, she kept repeating it to herself. That was intense. "You're an ass. I didn't... I thought you were Matthew."
"Clearly, because he and I look so much alike," his response dripped sarcasm, infuriating her even further. She crushed the feeling though, doing her best to regain, not retain, her composure. "You were looking right at me, Treyp."
"I. Was asleep." The dryad girl spoke slowly, deliberately. In spite of her attempts, a little bit of her temper leaked into her voice. It did not intimidate Kurik-- nobody in their company intimidated easily, mind-- but it was enough to get him to listen for a moment. He did not relish the idea of fighting this girl whom he had no desire to hurt, and whose uncle Geran would take the incident personally. Treyp turned, stepping even further away from the swordsman in the process, and gestured at Lithia. "It's her. All day, she has been having nightmares. Anger, fear... it's been bleeding off on me, I think, because of her abilities. She doesn't have them completely under control when she's like this."
"You know, that wouldn't surprise me at all, but what you just laid on me wasn't exactly 'horror' or 'rage.'" Kurik rubbed at his chin, left unshaven for several days. "At least, not from your end. Scared eight of the nine hells out of me."
"Wellllll...," Treyp dragged out the word, her tone saying louder-than-words that she should not have to spell this out for him. "Maybe she isn't exactly having a 'scary' dream just now."
"Then what... Oh." It dawned on him, mid-sentence. "I think I see what you're saying."
"Do you really?" It was her turn to be sarcastic. "Wow! Maybe you're not as stupid as Geran says you are."
"Be nice, Treyp."
"I was," she snapped. "Not that I had any actual choice in the matter."
"That wasn't my fault. You can stop trying to take it out on me."
Her response was somewhere between a grunt and a growl, and she looked away, folding her arms over her breasts. He was right. It was not his fault, and it was not him with whom she was angry. Annoyed would be a better word for what she felt toward him, because he was an egotistical jerk, but not angry. She was not even particularly angry at Lithia. While the redhead had, technically, caused the situation, it was not as if she could help herself at the moment. No, when one got right down to it, Treyp was less angry and more... flustered. That was a good word for it. It was, in fact, a very good word for it.
"Listen, Treyp." Kurik began, breaking the silence that had begun to stretch out between them. "I've known your Uncle for a long time. You're not the first of his blood relatives that I've met. In my experience... Dryad blood tends to run a little hot, if you know what I mean. You're a passionate people. You're angry when you're angry, you're afraid when you're afraid, you're... well, you get my drift."
"Okay... are you trying to make a point?"
"Just that, maybe, you are a little more susceptible to her power than some of us." Walking past her, Kurik deftly undid the buckles that held his swords in place at his hips and leaned them against the table. Then he unceremoniously dumped himself into the chair in which Treyp had fallen asleep. "Your eyes seem to be working again, so you go look. I will watch over her for a while."
The dryad girl stared at him for a good, long time. Then, finally, she nodded, and began putting her thoughts in order as she walked around to the far side of the bed to find the boots Andrek had brought her before returning to his duties as a courier. He had wanted to stay and help, but both she and Kurik had insisted that it would be better if they all behaved as normally as possible. In truth, they simply had not wanted to drag somebody that was innocent and effectively incapable of defending themselves into the middle of such a dire situation.
"I take it, by his absence, that you didn't find Geran."
"Good thing, don't you think?"
"Uh-huh."
"If you want a suggestion, you might start at his room again--"
"If you couldn't find my uncle, I doubt I will be able to." Treyp sat on the soft edge of the bed as she laced up her boots. "I will find somebody else to help us, and we can hope he turns up soon."
"Who are you going to look for, then?"
"...Matthew."
"Treyp..."
"Shut up."
"Listen, it's none of my business. But we have more important things to worry about today than getting lai---"
"By the Gods, I know!" Twisting about, Treyp snatched one of the extra pillows from its resting place near, but not under, Lithia's head and hurled it at Kurik. "I trust Matthew, and so do you. Jerk! He is one of the deadliest men in the Keep, and if we have to face something we don't quite know how to kill, whether we find my Uncle or not, I want that guy with me!"
"Hey! Okay, okay." The swordsman's quick hands kept him from taking the pillow to the face. She had been aiming for the half-grin that had appeared there when he spoke. He slapped it aside and then held his hands up in a peace-making gesture. "I'm sorry, okay? Fine. Go get Matthew. You're right. I was just worried, that's all."
"Don't be."
Treyp's movements were sharp, with more strength than was necessary behind them. When her boots were comfortably in place, she stood up. Then, rather than make for the door in the interests of making a quick departure, as was her want, she turned around, leaned over the bed, and touched Lithia's face while murmuring words of encouragement in the dryad tongue. It was a comforting motion. Years ago, every time she had felt ill or sad or whatever else, the Eldest Sister Ytyrra had always been there with the same comforting hand and words for her. After a moment, satisfied, and surprised that the little kindness she had hoped to share with the girl had actually gone far toward calming herself down as well, Treyp turned away from the bed and left the room. Pointedly, she did not even glance in Kurik's direction. She was only a little calmer, and did not want to ruin it by having to deal with him again.
For his part, the swordsman was content to let her leave without a word. However, once she disappeared from view, his little smirk returned. Sometimes, he simply could not help himself, and having already dealt with the worst of the situation, his sense of humor had returned in full force. Waiting for a moment, he counted her footfalls until she was a comfortable distance away, and then spoke in a conversational voice. "Have fun when you find him, but don't take too long."
"Ass!" She cried in response from a good distance down the hallway, and Kurik snickered. Her ears might be even better than Geran's, he decided.
Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome. This is, as usual, self edited, so let me know if you see a mistake that needs fixing!