kamikazepotato
patreon
The Skill Thief's Canvas - Chapter 68 (Book 3 Chapter 7)
🕑 Added 2025-02-23 09:29:13 +0000 UTCThe sun crawled over the horizon like a wounded god, too slow and too red. It hadn't witnessed death last night, but it had come just in time to watch a soul be forever trapped within a painting. Fractured echoes of distress, death, and despair still lingered in the snow, filtering through the cold morning air.
Gaspar stepped into that cruel morning like none of it mattered, whistling, hands loose at his sides as he approached.
"Ah, Your Highness! I see you dealt with Edmundo. That's pretty cool." His tone was genial, but his eyes contained a trace of the man he'd buried deep within. "So that's what someone looks like after you Paint them, huh?"
The Lord who'd lost his land stared at the body of the Lord who'd lost his soul. "Rather eerie."
"It is," Adam quietly acknowledged.
Gaspar shrugged, then shivered, as is just now remembering that his half-open jacket and bare chest weren't meant for the cold. "Anyhow, Your Highness, I got word back from Coimbargo," said the Fallen Lord. "They told me that the Walls around its Realm flickered, but didn't quite break. Even after taking Edmundo's soul, the city remains protected."
He chuckled. "Looks like that means that Edmundo won't be dining with the Dragons just yet...or that your Talent just works that way, I suppose."
Like the implication is "You stole his Talent, so I was afraid that the city was fucked when he died" which is technically true, but he's not dead yet, he's just the soulless corpse.
That was somewhat of a pertinent point. I have another Talent of a Lord within me now, Adam thought. What do I do with it? It was of lower Rank than his own, and it wasn't like having multiple Lord Talents would help – not when he still only had one Canvas.
"But man, I'm glad everything worked out," Gaspar cheerfully said. "Happy to be working with you, Your Highness. I'd much rather die fighting against the Rot than live at the side of the Empire."
Gaspar laughed, sharp and easy. It was the kind of sound that could bewitch a lady and charm a lord, that could intrigue a room and mask a crime. One would think he was telling a good joke, with the way his tone raised upward as if singing, how his laughter wrapped around each syllable...
But his eyes never strayed from the body in the snow. Edmundo lay there unmoving, without a soul, frozen mid-reach. His last moment had been fossilized in ice, forever grasping for the Imperial Vending Machine as he hoped for a salvation that would never come.
Gaspar's voice didn't change, but a single note of hesitation touched his throat. "Will he ever recover again? Aspreay did, I hear, so I'd hoped...rather, I'd wondered..."
Adam shook his head. "No. My Talent rips your soul out of your body and traps it–" Within my tablet. "–Within a painting. Most people just die if their souls get returned, or come back as hollow husks. Aspreay was an exception."
At the time, Adam hadn't known why. Solara had survived after being Painted and regaining her soul, but that made sense, given her Talent of Resurrection. The Ship Captain survived as well, but 'survival' was a loose term to apply there; he was barely conscious, and Adam's execution of him had nearly been a mercy. Or so I tell myself.
Conversely, Aspreay had emerged completely fine.
Nowadays, after their training together, Adam could hazard a guess as to the how. Aspreay had likely killed himself, then used his Realm to come back to life fully healed. I suppose the damage I did by stealing his soul did happen inside his Realm...right before it became my Realm.
"Such is war, I suppose," Gaspar said, with a forced laugh.
Adam raised an eyebrow. "You will miss him?"
"Mayhaps so." His voice said he wouldn't. His ever-so-slightly faded smirk said he wasn't quite sure himself. "That painting you've got right there...is it the one that captured Edmundo's soul?"
Adam's grip tightened on his tablet. "Yes."
Gaspar's lips parted like he wanted to say something, then closed. He simply nodded instead, slow and thoughtful, his usual theatrics stripped away. A silence followed, thick with unspoken thoughts.
"Could I trouble you, good artist, to explain your art to me?" The Fallen Lord grinned. "Never fully got along with the man, but he did shelter me after my city died. Feels like I ought to understand him, if only a little."
Adam's head dipped in agreement. "Edmundo...didn't care about his son," he said, in a near-whisper. He waited for a reaction that never came – if that information was a shock to Gaspar, it certainly didn't show, neither on his face nor in his silence.
"The idea for my Painting first came to me when I remembered why his son was in Aspreay's court to begin with," Adam continued. "Due to being a bastard, he was an undesirable in his own hometown, and Edmundo didn't step in to fix the situation. Hardly felt like a loving father to me."
Then again, what was a loving father like? Not knowing that had made the painting take longer than anticipated. Thankfully, he was too scared to run. Spent hours getting this one right.
"That was when the idea first came to you," Gaspar noted, putting emphasis on 'first'. "Was there more to it?"
"More than I can count. To keep it short, though...when he met with Tenver, Edmundo admitted that he was fine with Ciro's proposed scenario – the one where only I was executed. He said that no one would blame him for letting Tenver live, since nobody would ever learn that Tenver was the one who'd killed his son. But that seems–"
"As if he only cared about vengeance for the sake of his house's reputation." Gaspar sighed. "Yeah...yeah, that sounds like him."
He turned towards Adam, a wide smile plastered on his face. "Well, that's that," he started, in a chipper voice. "Edmundo was a greedy fuck who died. No more needs be said. Let's move on with...with..."
But his voice caught, his smile faltered. The Fallen Lord brought a hand to cover his eyes as he looked at the sky. "Sorry, Your Highness. Ever since our Clash my emotions have been...poking at me. Most annoyingly."
"Isn't that good?" Adam said. "Feeling things."
"Plenty of rhetoric in your voice, my king – yet my heart does not settle so easily."
Gaspar lowered his head, letting a smirk creep back onto his face. He raked a hand through his dark curls, the movement tugging his open shirt just casually enough to seem unintentional. Were it not for the freezing cold outside, and the way the man trembled slightly, Adam wouldn't have suspected the gesture of being as performative as it was.
"Ah well, give me a bit, if you're so kind," Gaspar said. "Allow me to smooth over this incident with the other Frontier Lords while you prepare for our trip. If anything, I might be able to use what happened with Edmundo to get them on our side. Most were already sworn to you, anyhow, but that stubborn man...well, no matter."
The Fallen Lord summoned a beat of silence that stretched on with something unspoken, something unreadable.
"Your Highness," he eventually said. "You mentioned a mission earlier."
"No, I didn't."
"I saw it in your mind when you allowed me in there for a short stay," Gaspar jovially pointed out. "Although I did not, regrettably, see our destination. If I may be so bold...though I wager the 'when' to be soon, the 'where' remains a mystery to me. Couldn't catch a hint of it, not even during our beautiful duet of Divine Knowledge!"
That's because I haven't decided yet. Can't find information that doesn't exist. There were too many matters to resolve, and not enough time to resolve them. The Western Hangmen, the Second Painter, the Emperor...
Adam drew a deep breath and said–
–
"The Hidden Elf Village?" Solara asked him, her eyes lighting up. "That's where we are going?"
Adam's fingers traced the map's surface, then stopped. He gave a single, firm tap, on a single, unassuming spot. "That's right. Valeria told us it's located...right here."
He drew a circle around the area with a paintbrush. Hardly the ideal tool for this, but he could now summon one at will with his Hangman Talent, and it seemed fitting enough. "It's to the west of Penumbria, between us and the Capital, along a path we previously thought had nothing but monsters. I think you know why we have to go there, don't you?"
Solara seemed to know what he was getting at, but she was slow to agree – and when she did, it was with a hesitant frown. "Because it could be incredibly important for the war. Ciro will have a much easier time attacking us if he turns the village into an outpost to help feed his men."
She paused. "But still...that's only if he knows about it, yes? If the Emperor was aware of a gathering of elven refugees, then I doubt the village would even exist right now."
Tenver abruptly slung his legs onto the table. It was a deliberate, lazy sprawl, punctuated by an exasperated sigh. His knight's cloak slipped from his shoulders, pooling around him like an afterthought. He brought his fingertips together and toward his lips, the picture of an elegant man pondering much – or of one who liked to give that image, anyhow.
"The problem is that you assume my Dear Uncle to be loyal to anyone or anything," the Knight began. "Rest assured, the man bows not even to his own prejudices. He hates Puppets, spits at Elves, and feels disgust at the sight of human commoners...but think not for a second that he wouldn't let them live should it benefit him."
Solara tilted her head. She shifted, her weight settling on her left foot, and her gaze as sharp as her ears. "Tenver, he butchered – he massacred Greenisle. He killed every last elf he could, and had it not been for father–"
She cut herself off, as if ashamed of the emotion that had risen in her voice. Still with her eyes closed, she said, "I struggle to believe that someone willing to commit such atrocities would listen to reason at any point."
Tenver laughed darkly. "That's the horrifying thing. He may hate elves, but he didn't massacre them without reason. Moreso than his hatred of all that is not human, Ciro desired the support of those even more hateful than himself."
The Knight's hollow mirth faded. "That's why he ordered the Butchery of Greenisle – and why he wouldn't have touched the Hidden Elf Village, regardless of whether he knows of its existence. Because doing so benefits him."
"How?" Solara cried out. "What burning reason would he have for keeping the village alive?"
Adam felt uncomfortable enough that he wanted to remain quiet, yet compelled enough to not ignore his friend's pain. "Because it's hidden," he muttered. Tenver spoke with him about this earlier, but the Painter had already come to much the same conclusion from the start. "Vasco didn't let the massacre finish, and even leaving aside Greenisle, there have always been elves living in human cities wherever they could. Getting rid of them all would be difficult."
He grimaced. "But if they willingly disappeared from sight, and were no longer the problem of an Imperial City..."
The Emperor would consider it a blessing for them both, most likely. Adam didn't know how to say that aloud without making it sound like he agreed with the man, though, and so thought it better to hold his tongue.
"My Dear Uncle would keep the village alive because no noblemen would dare blame him for it," Tenver added. "Then he could slowly migrate the elves out of his cities – all whilst they thought it was their own decision."
Adam winced. Well, never let it be said that Tenver overly measures his words.
Solara's arms folded taut. She stepped around the room without direction, shoulders tense, expression darkening. "I...see. And I suppose even if he didn't know before the last war, there's always a chance he noticed it when his scouts started exploring more of the Frontier. I...I can't deny it makes sense."
Her shoulders rose, then fell. On the outside, she only allowed a single half-controlled sigh – that barely masked the storm inside.
But I can see it. We can see it. Solara, talk to us, come on!
Tenver flashed a lopsided, apologetic grin. "Adam?" He rubbed the back of his neck, an uncharacteristic hesitation to his tone. "I think you'll do better at this than me."
The Prince turned and stepped towards the door, though he didn't go through it just yet. His hand – it didn't escape Adam that he ensured it wasn't his Puppet hand – found Solara's shoulder, and gripped it gently, if uncertainly.
"Everything will be fine," he murmured, all of the usual jest gone from his voice. It was an empty reassurance, but from his pained face, Tenver needed to offer it anyway.
Solara's hand covered his for a moment, silently accepting his encouragement. Then he slipped away, the door clicking shut behind him.
I...know something is wrong, Adam thought, as he examined the elf's face. But I don't know how to fix it when I don't know what it is.
Worst of all, he had a stabbing fear that it wasn't something he could fix.
And he'd be damned if he was going to accept that answer without trying to help first.
"You seem...displeased about going to the Elven Village," Adam started hesitantly. "I thought you'd be happy to see more of your people."
"Are they really?"
Solara whirled around, arms crossed. Her eyes burned, seeking answers for questions she would prefer not to voice. "Are they really my people? You said it yourself – I didn't grow up with their culture."
Adam didn't know what she was getting at, but the sudden sadness in her voice prevented him from asking what she meant. I said that to her before? Goddamn it, what were we talking about then? What did I even say, exactly? Was I–?
When the answer did finally resurface in his mind, it seemed like such a banal incident that Adam's first conclusion was that he must be mistaken, thinking of the wrong thing.
But looking at the barely-contained frustration on Solara's face...maybe that was just the problem.
"Is it because of what I said in the baths?" Adam asked quietly. "About how...even if getting in the water would've been natural for elves, it should still be awkward for you because you weren't raised by..."
The Painter trailed off as his bafflement at himself started to take shape. Why did I say that? And why did I think that was okay? The answer, he knew, was that he'd been feeling awkward at the moment, and had tried it deflect with whatever verbal shield he could lay his hands on.
That didn't make it less hurtful. "I'm sorry," Adam added quickly. "Okay, I realize that was sort of stupid of me...okay, very stupid. I'll be more careful with the shit I say in the future."
Solara's lips parted – then closed. She swallowed whatever had been on her mind.
"I promise I didn't mean anything of the stuff I said, I–" Adam started to think of what he could say to assure her. "Was just nervous because of the whole baths thing. And because you were giving me shit over it. If that ever situation ever comes up again, I'll – I know you'd be cool with it."
He nervously gestured at the door leading to the baths. "Hell, if you want, we can call Tenver right now and go–"
The Elf laughed. "Oh? How positively gallant of you, Adam. What a self-sacrificing hero you are!"
Adam was relieved for a second to hear the lightheartedness in her tone. She's not upset. Oh, thank–
He was less relieved when he noticed the teasing in her voice. Oh dear god.
"How virtuous of you," Solara crowed. "Could my lord mean he would go through the terrible sacrifice of being stuck between Tenver's chiseled abs and my naked chest?"
"I – I wasn't saying–"
Adam drew a deep breath. "Please get that mental image out of my head."
Solara smirked, her eyelids lowering just enough to make her smug satisfaction plain. "Don't pretend that any of that is an unpleasant thought," she said. "Go on. Admit it. You'd love for that to be the case, wouldn't you? Oh, to act as the noble hero, taking care of my feelings while being surrounded by the two most beautiful people you know–"
"Fine, poor choice of words on my part. I admit–"
"Come on, I'm having a tough fucking time right now. Let me have this." Solara faced him with an uncharacteristic pout displayed on her expression, one that he'd seen on Tenver's face far too often. "Just say you'd have loved it, and that you made those insensitive comments back then because you were afraid."
"Of course I would and of course I did!" Adam replied, somehow managing to keep his outraged voice low in volume, though not in pitch. "That's obvious, isn't it?"
Silence wrapped around them, but neither recoiled away from it. For once, it didn't seem like a malevolent force. Solara's mood seemed to have brightened, though a dark cloud still hung over her.
Adam chose not to ask her yet. She had the face of someone who was gathering the words to explain her thoughts.
"Sorry," Solara told him. "What you said honestly wasn't even that bad. I think most of the time I would've been the one to point it out myself, make a joke out of it. If I'm being honest...I guess I'm just taking it out on you, being selfish and unfair."
Adam opened his mouth and hesitated. He really didn't want to screw up the words this time. "I wouldn't describe you like that."
"Because you're too nice." Her shoulders sank. "I'm upset at...a lot of people. At myself. And I know that if I voiced those things aloud to any of them, myself included, I wouldn't get the response I want."
She put on a warm smile. "But you...Adam, you have the annoying habit of actually trying to understand people."
Well, that is how my Talent works. Some time ago, he would've attempted to convince himself that his Painting was the only reason he wanted to understand people so badly. He may have even considered if there was any benefit to knowing more about Solara, as he could already paint her soul if need be.
Now the thought just seemed ludicrous to him. Understanding people wasn't something he did for the sake of his power – it was something he'd always believed was the right thing to do.
I wonder...did I get this Talent because of that, in a way?
"Do you want to talk about what's bothering you?" Adam asked.
"No. Yes?" Solara threw her arms up in the air. "I don't know." She shook her head again and laughed with frustration. "Look, it's weird, all right? I do, but I also know I sound crazy and–why would I care?"
Another forced laugh, this time even less convincing than the last. "I just..." She tried to find the words, her mouth already open and a vague sound coming out of her throat, but to no avail.
Adam allowed her the dignity of silence for a minute. "Can you tell me, then?" he ventured. "Not because you want to talk about it, I mean, but because I want to hear it."
He smiled at her. "Do it as a favor to me, maybe?"
She returned the smile with a weak one of her own. "Fine, you win, I guess."
Solara suddenly gave him a deep bow, paying full courtesy as if she stood as the Lady of Gama before the King of the Frontier. "Oh, Your Highness, I stand here with a request – will you hear my petition?"
//
Adam shifted his posture, settling deeper into the oak couch, his shoulders rolling back. It was a rather comfortable piece of furniture for what he'd deemed as his work office in the Penumbria manor, meant for relaxation, yet now he tried to treat it like his throne. He adopted a playfully over-the-top royal tone, coughed dramatically, then said, "You may speak."
"Your Highness!" Solara began, her voice serious – yet thrown across the room as if she stood on the stage. She let out a weak laugh that betrayed a sincere smile. "May I have your permission to act vulnerable and spoiled?"
Adam's expression remained unchanged. "You never have to request that," he said, warmly. "That's the privilege of friendship, isn't it?"
He felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment at his own words, but the sight of Solara's smile stopped his regret from setting in. "You can always–"
Before he could finish his assurance, she'd nearly flown into him, running up at the couch and diving into it with a careless abandon. "Wait – ow!" he protested. "This isn't very comfortable."
"Too bad," Solara replied cheekily. "Should've considered that before granting me permission, Your Highness."
"You idiot," Adam grunted, but smiled all the same.
Solara nudged herself into her desired position, tyrannically demanding Adam's legs to move onto the couch. She then shifted herself until she was between his legs, inviting his arms around her.
It was an awkward position for many reasons. Partially because she was ever so slightly taller than him and the back of her head covered Adam's entire field of vision, and partially because she was standing so close to him.
He'd almost raised an objection before realizing just how limp her body felt. Not because she was relaxed, but because she was overwhelmed.
The hell am I thinking, getting nervous right now? Showing awkwardness here wouldn't have helped anyone – not him, not her. And so he wrapped his arms around her while she melted against him.
When was the last time I held someone like this? Had he ever? He'd loved people in the past. He'd had close friends too. But had he ever been there for someone like he was now?
Maybe not. At the very least, he couldn't remember ever being on the receiving end of a hold like this. Not even by his parents.
Solara lowered herself further into her position, legs stretching past the couch, until the top of her head was just beneath Adam's chin. He hesitated about his arm's placements for a moment, thinking they were precariously high on her torso – until he felt her grab his hands and place them back when he tried to move away.
"Just hold me for a while," Solara said, her voice uncharacteristically high-pitched. "Might make it easier to say this."
"If it makes it easier, I won't let go," Adam promised her, tightening his grip as he did. He wasn't always good at knowing what people needed, but if they told him, if he knew...no way in hell he was gonna let them down. "Take as long as you need."
The room held only stillness and the sound of faint breathing. For a long while they remained in that position, saying nothing yet everything.
"I had a friend in Greenisle," Solara said. "Her name was Lara."
Adam blinked in surprise. She didn't talk about Greenisle very often, and when she did, it was usually in the context of revenge. This...was new.
"I don't remember her too much," Solara went on. "It's been a long time, and I was just a kid. Don't even remember what we used to do together. Dragons burn me, it was a time before I even played Espada-de-Guerra, what did I do with my free time?"
She paused in reminiscence. "But we were good friends. I remember that. I remember her long hair, more golden than mine. I remember how she could braid it so well despite being so young – was always jealous of her for that. Thought she could teach me one day. And...I remember how she used to love autumn."
Adam listened to it all in silence, unmoving. At times he worried his grip on her was too tight, but every time he relaxed it ever so slightly, Solara would pull his arms closer.
Just because it's been a long time since Greenisle, just because you don't talk about it...that doesn't mean it stopped affecting you. I should have known better.
"Lara used to talk all the time," Solara said, "about how beautiful it was when the leaves turned orange. Elven cities always have this one sacred tree at the center, you know? Something our Elders know how to cultivate. Their leaves change into an even brighter shade of orange than a normal tree does. It's beautiful. Lara loved that more than anyone."
Adam knew what was to come. He wondered if he should signal that to her. You don't have to say it. I know what happened after.
But he knew better. Solara was speaking of it for a reason. Interrupting would only make things harder on her.
"She died before she could see the autumn leaves that year," Solara said, her voice quivering ever so slightly. "I remember her blood on my face. I remember her head falling and bouncing off my right foot. I remember what her eyes looked like after she died."
Silence reigned.
"Why," Solara muttered. "Why does that memory come to mind easily when I have to search so very hard to remember the happy times we spent together? Why is it that my daily life in Greenisle feels shrouded in fog when the bloodshed seems so vivid? I–I–"
She bit her lip, a ghost of the past haunting her thoughts.
Adam knew there was nothing he could say here. There was plenty to listen to, however. And so he kept one arm wrapped around her, using the other to gently brush against her hair.
"You must be wondering what I'm getting at," Solara said. "Sorry. I'm rambling. Let me–"
He pulled her closer. "Don't even think about it," he whispered in her ear. "Talk about whatever you need, as long as you need."
Solara resisted at first, her body stiffening, her muscles locked in some unspoken defense. Then her breath caught, and...she let it all go. A slow exhale where everything seemed to fall away, if only for now.
Her body softened against his, tired in more ways than either could voice. "Remember when we fought the Emperor last time? When I dueled the Lady of Ash?"
"Yes," Adam promptly answered. Trying to cheer her up, he added, "And you did amazing – straight-up defeated her! Got yourself a Genius Realm. Honestly, you might be the strongest one of us all right now."
Solara laughed weakly. "No 'might' about it. I'm the best," she declared, her voice proud. Then, after a stuttered start, she said, "I...I ordered my men to fall back and let me fight her by myself. So that they could save their lives."
"You did fantastic," Adam assured her. "You saved their lives with that command and still beat her by yourself!"
"Yes, but..."
Solara froze. Whatever had been haunting her, whatever seeds of doubt that had festered in her heart, they could be traced back to here.
No. Not exactly. But this was what made her start thinking of it again. He waited patiently and silently for her to continue.
It was a long time before she did. Solara did not want to say these words.
But she knew she needed to.
"Had it been my father who ordered them, those same men would have refused to leave. They would've died at his side." Solara's voice was steady. Too steady. "But they left me because I'm an elf."
"That's–"
"–True, and you know it." She grasped Adam's hand, squeezing it so tight that he nearly winced. "And those are the men who accept me. They cheered for my victory, defended my father's right to name me as his successor, yet...they don't see me as one of them. I'm just someone fighting on their side. I'm one of them – until I'm not."
Slowly, very slowly, Adam started to understand.
No, that would've been too presumptuous on his part. Most likely, he could never fully understand. But he could make an effort to feel her pain and imagine what it was like, even if it wasn't something he'd personally experienced.
"There are those in Gama that hate me for being an elf," Solara began. "There are those who like me in spite of being an elf. Yet even those who like me still don't embrace me as one of their own. I would die for Gama, I – I sought out the Dark Sorcerer to maybe try and get them to see me differently. But let's be honest, even if that debacle had turned out differently...they would still see me as the exiled elf, not the Lady of Gama."
"I'm...sorry," Adam said. What else could you say to that? "That's terrible, it's unfair, it's – fuck. You...you really shouldn't have had to deal with that."
"It's fine. How could I complain? I've been lucky. I was adopted into a rich family after Greenisle. Father took care of me just as well as anyone could, and he gave me more love than I thought possible."
An earnest smile crept into her face. "He sees me as the same as him. I'm quite fortunate in that regard. But everyone else..."
She trailed off. "Worst of all, even other elves dislike me."
Adam remembered what she'd once told him. Elves have distrusted humans for a while now already, but after the Butchery of Greenisle...it got worse.
He already knew the answer to what he was about to ask, but figured Solara would want a chance to vent her frustrations. "Even the ones Vasco rescued? The ones living in Gama?"
"Even them." Her voice rang more bitter than before. "In a way, especially them. Oh, they treat me well, but they don't act like I'm one of them either. They never will. They're always afraid I'm in league with some human conspiracy, and – and how could I blame them?"
Solara laughed at her own words – too sharply, too quickly. She shrugged, tried to pretend nothing she'd said mattered, but the humor didn't quite reach her eyes.
When she stopped, Adam could feel her body twitching, her breath unsteady. This topic mattered more than she could admit. "It's unfair of me...but sometimes I blame them even more than I blame humans."
Adam hesitated. "What do you mean? More than the people who hate you for being an elf?"
"I've never had any expectations for humans to like me," Solara said, her voice turning cold. "But elves...I thought that at least with them, that they'd – that they would...perhaps I hold 'my' people to unduly high standards, and unfairly so, but–"
Adam continued to brush her hair, his touch soft. "It's okay to be upset."
"Is it?" She sounded genuinely unsure. "They've suffered more than me. Their distrust is warranted. Their feelings are valid. And–"
"–And yours aren't?"
Upon hearing his reply, Solara's lips parted, though her hesitation stayed whole. Whatever words had been swirling around her throat died unspoken. Instead, she sighed, allowing herself to sink further into his arms, pressing her head against his chest.
"When you put it like that..." She laughed faintly. "So, when you said that thing the other day, I just...it reminded me of a lot of things, and I took it out on you. I'm sorry."
"You barely even said anything," Adam argued. "That doesn't count as taking it out on someone. You didn't even throw anything at me!"
She lifted her head and turned around slightly, facing him with a raised eyebrow. First, it came to his notice that she'd been crying – and second, it became clear that those tears had abruptly stopped as annoyed confusion set in.
"Adam, forgive me for changing topics, but that cannot be your standard for what counts as taking something out on you. I refuse to accept that."
"I..."
He looked away. After still feeling her burning gaze in his direction, he awkwardly turned his head back to face her. "Look, I – this isn't about me." Adam shifted her head away from him and toward the ceiling again, trying to guide her back into the position she'd held for their conversation. "Come on, we were talking about your feelings."
"I was pretty much done," she said immediately. "All that's left is how I'm nervous about going to this hidden elven village – that apparently I wasn't trusted enough with knowing – and so on. Nothing big. We're at war, those issues are hardly of importance."
Even as Solara tried to make light of her concerns, Adam could feel her tremble slightly in his arms. He pulled her closer to him, and she offered no resistance.
"Thank you," she said, after a while. "I...I'll be okay."
"And I'll be with you the whole time," Adam promised her. "If you feel weird while we are there, just talk to me, alright? We'll play Espada-de-Guerra, paint some models, read some books – stuff like that."
"Maybe...some drinks too?" Solara said hopefully.
He brushed her hair again. "Some. We can't get as drunk as usual while a war is going on. Not unless we want to risk an international incident."
"We weren't that bad."
Adam stared blankly at her until her composure broke.
Their laughter started almost like an exercise, a mutual delusion of a fun they did not feel. But then it turned into something else, something real.
Something warm.
Solara was not 'okay'. How could anyone be, after just a single conversation? But she was doing better – and at the very least, she knew she wasn't alone. That had to count for something.
I hope it does.
With little warning, Solara raised her head and stared straight at the door. "Enough already. Tenver, you Puppet Bitch, I know you're listening outside. Just get in here and join the damn hug already."
Stepping slowly, Tenver emerged with a lazy smirk and eyes full of amusement. "You caught me! Oh no, will you turn me over to the authorities?"
"I am the authority," Adam noted.
"Oh no," Tenver repeated blandly. "You see, esteemed Lord, I am poor with my words," he lied, "and thought it better to exclude myself from such a touching heart-to-heart."
You thought Solara would feel uncomfortable with you, since you two used to have that whole Puppet and Elf mutual hatred thing, Adam corrected. And honestly...I wasn't completely sure you were wrong either.
Until now, when he saw Solara's genuine laughter mirror his own. "Come on," she said, beckoning Tenver over with a gesture. "Stop talking and give me a fucking hug already. I'm going through a lot, you dumb prick."
Adam grinned and mimicked her gesture. "You heard her, Tenver."
The Puppet had only a moment of surprise show on his face before matching their expressions of joy. "Well, if Your Highness and the Heiress of Gama insist, then–allow–me–!" He dashed at them with a running start.
All three of us...guess not a single one of our group really feels like we belong anywhere, huh? A Painter from Earth, an exiled Prince revived as a Puppet, an Elf adopted as a noblewoman. In another life, they'd have been outcasts in another world, but in this one...they had each other.
Maybe they didn't need much more than that.
Not that I think my troubles and theirs are the same but...I'm glad to see them like this. To be able to trust them. To have them take care of me. To be able to take care of them. To–
Adam died.
Solara died as well.
Less than a second later, they'd been resurrected – Adam by his Realm, and Solara by her Talent. He instinctually summoned his abilities as a Hangman, readying himself for battle-
Then heaved the heaviest sigh of his life as he slowly pieced together what had happened.
The couch is destroyed...I'm on the ground... He turned around and saw Solara grunting in fury. Solara is pissed. He heard Tenver's laughter, feeling a heavy weight on his chest. And Tenver is above us.
"Tenver," Adam said, drawing out the name. "Did you kill us when you jumped onto the couch with a full suit of Dragonforged Steel armor?"
"The weight of my Puppet arm might have been an issue as well, yes," the knight gleefully admitted.
"And you thought that was okay to do why?" Solara demanded, through clenched teeth.
Tenver laughed. "Why not? We're in Penumbria, so the both of you are immortal. It seemed amusing – and when else would I have the chance?"
Not too long ago, Adam would've felt no small measure of concern over that. He'd have wondered if Tenver had meant to assassinate him, lost many nights of sleep to that intrusive thought.
Today, he merely joined Solara when she stood up and proceeded to kick Tenver in the ribs.
--
Thanks for reading!
Comments
Nathan Linder
"In another life, they'd have been outcasts in another world" Title dro... oh wait, wrong series.
