Three Word Challenge - Advice
This post just proves that Christmas isn't what is used to be. Once upon a time, I would have gone to bed at ten, only to lie in bed awake for hours because I was too excited for the next morning to sleep. Now, I care more about figuring out when I'm going to find the time to write between opening presents, spending time with my family, and building a gingerbread house with friends.
Priorities, priorities.
1.) Nun
2.) Lantern
3.) Scarf
And before you ask, no, I have absolutely no idea where this came from...or even who these people are.
“You should go to him.”
Ilah glanced up from the thick tome she was reading, her cheek resting on a curled fist. “If he wants to talk to me, he knows where I am.” She looked back down, choosing to ignore the deep sigh from the other side of the room.
She waited, knowing Yan had a point to make. A few minutes later she wasn’t disappointed. “He is hurting.”
“So I gathered.” This time Ilah didn’t even look up, her gaze fixed on the page in a desperate attempt to remain composed. She did not want to rehash the whole thing over again, not when she was still smarting from the spat turned flaming row that had driven Gihran out into the frigid cold.
“He didn’t mean what he said.” There was a rustle, and Yan came to stand beside her desk, a wraith in white robes and shining silver hair fashioned into a thick braid that lay heavy over one shoulder. “He cares for you.”
“Not enough to accept me for what I am.” Ilah blinked rapidly as the delicate script blurred, and she rubbed at her eyes before the tears could begin to fall. She took a deep breath, firmly gripped the instinct to lash out and shoved it down. “I don’t want to talk about it, Yan.”
There was another sigh, followed by the soft touch of Yan’s fingers on her shoulder. “Pain cannot always be avoided. Sometimes the best path is to walk into it rather than prolong the inevitable.”
Ilah slid a side-long glance at the former nun. “And sometimes the heart can only take so much.”
“What could it hurt to go to him?” Yan persisted. “I would think Gihran matters more than your pride.”
Acknowledging that the flash of hurt she felt was due more to her recent fight than Yan’s words, Ilah shook her head and gently closed the ancient tome. Only once the thick hide cover was between her and the delicate pages did she release the choke hold she held on her temper.
“I am not being proud by not going to him.” Ilah struggled not to let her anger boil over. Bad enough she had roused the darker half of her nature already this night, she did not want to add fuel to the fire that continued to simmer.
“I know he hurt you, Ilah, but it was not his intention-”
“But he did, and I will not go to him when he has proven that he cannot accept what I can’t change.” Ilah stood, unable to sit when the pain was throbbing and pooling, seeming to split her from the inside out. “He chose to stay, even knowing what I am, but now I’m wondering if he ever really understood.”
“Give him time, Ilah. He lost his home and his family.”
“He’s not the only one,” Ilah snapped. She spun away to pace, the dulcet tones of the former nun’s voice only serving to irritate her rather than provide the calming influence she was used to. “We’re both hurting, and lashing out at me doesn’t make anything better.”
“Neither will letting this anger sit between you. You can’t expect him to understand if you won’t explain what you’re feeling.”
Yan’s quiet conviction rankled, driving the spurs of her anger deeper. “I don’t have words to explain what I’m feeling.” Ilah faced the massive bookshelf, focused on the rows upon rows of books and not the niggling urge to bare her teeth in a snarl. As if that would fix anything.
“You heard what the Oracle said. You’re going to need his help if you’re going to stop Blakthor’s army. He is the Lantern that will guide your way. You need him.”
Ilah turned, fingers shoving her hair back from her face as she considered how she was going to explain the doubts that had only grown stronger since taking refuge in the Gladin. “I don’t think he is, Yan.”
The remote calm that Yan wore like a cloak slipped away, and the other woman regarded her with stunned surprise. “What?”
“I don’t think Gihran is the one meant to guide me.” Ilah started to pace once more, thoughts whirling as she considered the doubts that had gradually solidified into certainty the deeper they moved into Winter. “The Oracle said that my Lantern would show me the path to my true self. I just don’t see Gihran doing that. He’s too….wary.”
Even after a month of travel, the man couldn’t look at the tattoos on her face without betraying his unease. So far she’d managed to keep the Rih’na half of her soul from rising to the surface, but the more time she spent with him, the harder it was to keep it under wraps. Her emotions played a large part in bringing it to the surface, and lately she’d found it difficult to relax around him. Soon she wasn’t going to have a say in the matter, and she dreaded the day Gihran would see what lurked beneath her tattoos.
To Ilah’s relief, Yan seemed to be considering her words, and knowing that the former-nun turned renegade was taking her seriously helped to calm some of her anger. Striding over to the door, she reached out and snagged one of the thick scarves that had been left for their use. “I’m not any shape to talk to him right now, but I think you’re right that someone should go to him.”
Yan frowned. “If what you’re saying is true, then that’s even more reason that you should be the one to talk with him.”
“If I go out there now it will only continue what eventually drove him outside in the first place,” Ilah pointed out. She shoved the scarf at Yan. “You however, are very good at being the gentle counselor. If anyone has a chance of making Gihran feel better, it’s you.”
“I don’t know.” Yan said, but she did reach for the scarf, and Ilah took that as a sign of her agreement.
“Make sure he doesn’t stay out there too late, since I don’t feel like digging his corpse out of the snow tomorrow.” Without giving the other woman a chance to change her mind Ilah scooped up one of the heavy cloaks and tossed it over Yan’s shoulders before giving her a gentle push towards the door.
Yan turned to consider her, one hand resting on the doorknob. “I’ll talk to him this time. But next time I won’t be so generous.”
Ilah caught a glimpse of the woman that had left her life behind in order to follow the truth, even knowing it mean her life should she ever try to return. She nodded. “I understand.”
“Good. One day I’m not going to be here to help you, and then where will you be?”
Ilah sat in silence as Yan slipped outside, the cheerful crackling of the fire her only company. Yan had sworn that by renouncing her faith she’d given up all abilities to see into other people’s futures, and Ilah had believed her, remembering the wreck the former-nun had been in the beginning of their journey.
Still, Ilah was sure she’d glimpsed a familiar glitter in the other woman’s eyes moments before she’d gone outside.
Priorities, priorities.
1.) Nun
2.) Lantern
3.) Scarf
And before you ask, no, I have absolutely no idea where this came from...or even who these people are.
“You should go to him.”
Ilah glanced up from the thick tome she was reading, her cheek resting on a curled fist. “If he wants to talk to me, he knows where I am.” She looked back down, choosing to ignore the deep sigh from the other side of the room.
She waited, knowing Yan had a point to make. A few minutes later she wasn’t disappointed. “He is hurting.”
“So I gathered.” This time Ilah didn’t even look up, her gaze fixed on the page in a desperate attempt to remain composed. She did not want to rehash the whole thing over again, not when she was still smarting from the spat turned flaming row that had driven Gihran out into the frigid cold.
“He didn’t mean what he said.” There was a rustle, and Yan came to stand beside her desk, a wraith in white robes and shining silver hair fashioned into a thick braid that lay heavy over one shoulder. “He cares for you.”
“Not enough to accept me for what I am.” Ilah blinked rapidly as the delicate script blurred, and she rubbed at her eyes before the tears could begin to fall. She took a deep breath, firmly gripped the instinct to lash out and shoved it down. “I don’t want to talk about it, Yan.”
There was another sigh, followed by the soft touch of Yan’s fingers on her shoulder. “Pain cannot always be avoided. Sometimes the best path is to walk into it rather than prolong the inevitable.”
Ilah slid a side-long glance at the former nun. “And sometimes the heart can only take so much.”
“What could it hurt to go to him?” Yan persisted. “I would think Gihran matters more than your pride.”
Acknowledging that the flash of hurt she felt was due more to her recent fight than Yan’s words, Ilah shook her head and gently closed the ancient tome. Only once the thick hide cover was between her and the delicate pages did she release the choke hold she held on her temper.
“I am not being proud by not going to him.” Ilah struggled not to let her anger boil over. Bad enough she had roused the darker half of her nature already this night, she did not want to add fuel to the fire that continued to simmer.
“I know he hurt you, Ilah, but it was not his intention-”
“But he did, and I will not go to him when he has proven that he cannot accept what I can’t change.” Ilah stood, unable to sit when the pain was throbbing and pooling, seeming to split her from the inside out. “He chose to stay, even knowing what I am, but now I’m wondering if he ever really understood.”
“Give him time, Ilah. He lost his home and his family.”
“He’s not the only one,” Ilah snapped. She spun away to pace, the dulcet tones of the former nun’s voice only serving to irritate her rather than provide the calming influence she was used to. “We’re both hurting, and lashing out at me doesn’t make anything better.”
“Neither will letting this anger sit between you. You can’t expect him to understand if you won’t explain what you’re feeling.”
Yan’s quiet conviction rankled, driving the spurs of her anger deeper. “I don’t have words to explain what I’m feeling.” Ilah faced the massive bookshelf, focused on the rows upon rows of books and not the niggling urge to bare her teeth in a snarl. As if that would fix anything.
“You heard what the Oracle said. You’re going to need his help if you’re going to stop Blakthor’s army. He is the Lantern that will guide your way. You need him.”
Ilah turned, fingers shoving her hair back from her face as she considered how she was going to explain the doubts that had only grown stronger since taking refuge in the Gladin. “I don’t think he is, Yan.”
The remote calm that Yan wore like a cloak slipped away, and the other woman regarded her with stunned surprise. “What?”
“I don’t think Gihran is the one meant to guide me.” Ilah started to pace once more, thoughts whirling as she considered the doubts that had gradually solidified into certainty the deeper they moved into Winter. “The Oracle said that my Lantern would show me the path to my true self. I just don’t see Gihran doing that. He’s too….wary.”
Even after a month of travel, the man couldn’t look at the tattoos on her face without betraying his unease. So far she’d managed to keep the Rih’na half of her soul from rising to the surface, but the more time she spent with him, the harder it was to keep it under wraps. Her emotions played a large part in bringing it to the surface, and lately she’d found it difficult to relax around him. Soon she wasn’t going to have a say in the matter, and she dreaded the day Gihran would see what lurked beneath her tattoos.
To Ilah’s relief, Yan seemed to be considering her words, and knowing that the former-nun turned renegade was taking her seriously helped to calm some of her anger. Striding over to the door, she reached out and snagged one of the thick scarves that had been left for their use. “I’m not any shape to talk to him right now, but I think you’re right that someone should go to him.”
Yan frowned. “If what you’re saying is true, then that’s even more reason that you should be the one to talk with him.”
“If I go out there now it will only continue what eventually drove him outside in the first place,” Ilah pointed out. She shoved the scarf at Yan. “You however, are very good at being the gentle counselor. If anyone has a chance of making Gihran feel better, it’s you.”
“I don’t know.” Yan said, but she did reach for the scarf, and Ilah took that as a sign of her agreement.
“Make sure he doesn’t stay out there too late, since I don’t feel like digging his corpse out of the snow tomorrow.” Without giving the other woman a chance to change her mind Ilah scooped up one of the heavy cloaks and tossed it over Yan’s shoulders before giving her a gentle push towards the door.
Yan turned to consider her, one hand resting on the doorknob. “I’ll talk to him this time. But next time I won’t be so generous.”
Ilah caught a glimpse of the woman that had left her life behind in order to follow the truth, even knowing it mean her life should she ever try to return. She nodded. “I understand.”
“Good. One day I’m not going to be here to help you, and then where will you be?”
Ilah sat in silence as Yan slipped outside, the cheerful crackling of the fire her only company. Yan had sworn that by renouncing her faith she’d given up all abilities to see into other people’s futures, and Ilah had believed her, remembering the wreck the former-nun had been in the beginning of their journey.
Still, Ilah was sure she’d glimpsed a familiar glitter in the other woman’s eyes moments before she’d gone outside.