(no subject)
What Phedre had to tell me, of her and Hyacinthe, I did not want to hear.
Of all the possible things she could have told me, that, somehow, is both what I most and least expected.
Anyone else, I could have handled. Some person she met on the island, any of the men or women she'd been with before I'd arrived. I could deal with any of that. But Hyacinthe... that terrifies me. I wondered once before what would happen if he returned, back in Terre d'Ange when we still fought to free him. It scared me then, though needlessly, as Hyacinthe had his own destiny to fulfil, a life seen for him in his sea mirror during his long exile.
Here, though. Here there is no Sibeal to take him. Here there is only Phedre.
When she told me, I did what I always do when she tells me what I do not, cannot hear: I left. I went, because I did not know what else to do. What else, but sit there and wound her with my words? I would rather not, and we have ever learned the trick of hurting one another as it is. I need not make it worse.
So I walk. And walk. To the mountain, through the trees, exploring, taking time to meditate and focus and understand what infuriates me so, what scares me so about this.
Eventually, I lose track of how long I have been out, how many hours I have left Phedre alone in our home. I find I do not care. I cannot go back until I know what to say to her. I make my way to our small temple, my feet taking me there before I know that is where I am heading. I pause before the statue of Elua, taking time to disarm before I kneel before the statue.
Perhaps there is some sense in this. I know not what it is yet.
Of all the possible things she could have told me, that, somehow, is both what I most and least expected.
Anyone else, I could have handled. Some person she met on the island, any of the men or women she'd been with before I'd arrived. I could deal with any of that. But Hyacinthe... that terrifies me. I wondered once before what would happen if he returned, back in Terre d'Ange when we still fought to free him. It scared me then, though needlessly, as Hyacinthe had his own destiny to fulfil, a life seen for him in his sea mirror during his long exile.
Here, though. Here there is no Sibeal to take him. Here there is only Phedre.
When she told me, I did what I always do when she tells me what I do not, cannot hear: I left. I went, because I did not know what else to do. What else, but sit there and wound her with my words? I would rather not, and we have ever learned the trick of hurting one another as it is. I need not make it worse.
So I walk. And walk. To the mountain, through the trees, exploring, taking time to meditate and focus and understand what infuriates me so, what scares me so about this.
Eventually, I lose track of how long I have been out, how many hours I have left Phedre alone in our home. I find I do not care. I cannot go back until I know what to say to her. I make my way to our small temple, my feet taking me there before I know that is where I am heading. I pause before the statue of Elua, taking time to disarm before I kneel before the statue.
Perhaps there is some sense in this. I know not what it is yet.