He had come a long way in the last few months. First he had agreed to stay, for the girls. That was a huge step in itself and he had never come to terms with it properly. Then he had learned to want some things for himself. Nothing major, just a small bucket list he'd only ever shared with one other... Who had since tried to wave it around in front of him like bait on a fishing hook.
He struggled with "keeping" anything, or acknowledging fully what was his, let alone wanting more than he had. Yet another thing he had not yet come to terms with. He had accepted a role of leadership, taken it seriously and allowed the role to break him in. Owned it, claimed it. Not for power, for them. They needed someone to lead them, and they wanted him. They were his friends, he'd do it for them. Another thing he hadn't fully come to terms with, though by the stars he tried.
Mildwynn blushed a little. "You notice people, changes in them, but you don't give anythin away in any obvious way, I think its likely you see far more than I do cause I get wrapped up in other thin's, my mind jumps and darts but you're more steady.. most times. I see a lot of strength in you, but people can be over stimulatin' its hard to turn it all off maybe, I don't know, but means sometimes you need space, an need to get away from it, from us, I mean we can be demandin after all.
You are highly intelligent an insightful, far more than most give you credit for, though many in the group are well aware of it, which is why they look to you as a leader, you have gained their trust when most of them have learned to distrust just bout everyone. Mostly it's cause you have shown them you see them an wont take their horse dung.. even if they cant see you properly yet'
He had come a long way. The cave, the lute, the lute neck, the gifts and meaningful gestures - promises from Tarsorel, apologies from Silver. They were patterns being built.
She pushed him hard, and he wondered now if she thought she must have him nigh cornered or budging to wherever she was bent on pushing him to. On his side, it wasn't a power game. She covered many such gestures with phrases like "I'm joking" or "it's just a ___ darling", and he let so many things slide because he didn't care about the power. Nor about definitions or contracts the way she did. She assumed she had her way, or worse she assumed she had nothing. She struggled to see what was right in front of her. He was observing it all very closely. He'd been clumsy before, and he was learning fast from it.
The cave incident showed that she would downplay and cover a gift and very grand gesture. High levels of effort. She would call them nothing, just because of how he responded. She would deny and backpedal. She could not be real with him about it, she exited herself from the equation when her response was most important to him.
He had come to expect her masks, this was no exception. Perhaps there was well meaning there, but there was also intention and a show of what was really on her mind.
She knew he hated these things.
He would rely on his own masks now and tolerate it. The new status of leader was extremely serious to him. She knew. She knew more than any of them, and still she had chosen this series of gestures. Ridiculed him for questioning. They weren't nothing. They were everything to him. His reaction was dismissed, as her flippancy was brought to bear against him.
Intimate and guarded. Arms length and tangled. Keep your enemies close, they say. Was she an enemy? Perhaps she simply hated everyone and this was a small crack beginning to show in her otherwise skillful facade.
Had he not expected things to fall apart?
What was the motive behind this entire dance, this push and pull? It had all been about her, from the start. He'd never minded. Yet, unexpectedly she'd managed to drag pieces of him out on the way - that was amazing, crazy. Confusing. Letting things just 'feel good', getting caught up in the journey. Being willing and open for wherever it landed him.
Back then, he had erred by thinking in terms of his own simple motives, wanting almost nothing. Seeing everything new and brilliant entering his life as amazing and simply falling like an autumn leaf wherever the breeze carried.
No, not anymore. Not this time. What was her motive, now? She was not simple like him. She had an endgame.
He knew her alter ego hated him despite her words - he had seen her colour. He knew she struggled taking responsibility for her own actions.
Did he believe the words she spoke? Were words clouding the full picture?
Was love?
He was a bard, he knew the stories about what love could do.
Time to see how the pieces fell.
Whatever this was, it would tell him enough. Actions spoke loudest, words were dust.
Looking at the entire picture, though, the rain ghost had come back to life - that much was clear, and amazing.
Best of all, it was enough.
