Fault Lines

ELION: Not at all. I’m simply accustomed to powerful women. Indeed, hierarchal structure is one of the few things in this world I enjoy. I can respect authority spoken by someone who knows firmly what they want; A commander that isn’t afraid to give commands. EIRA: But you don’t respect mine. ELION: That’s hardly the case. I respect you a great deal. But I also enjoy you greatly in other ways, so I’m inclined not to listen. It’s quite the paradox. A part of me does feel quite poorly. I’m just being ripped apart on the inside by my own internal dilemma— EIRA: Can’t you take anything seriously?! ELION: Yes. Yes I can. And I do. I’d like to get to know you. EIRA: Why? ELION: You ask me to be serious, then I will give you a very serious answer. I once loved a woman like you. You remind me of her in the most achingly beautiful way. It’s painful. And I want to feel it more. EIRA: …So it is a kink. ELION: Only partially. EIRA: laughs Ridiculous. Did she love you back? ELION: For a while. EIRA: Shocking. Let me guess, you drove her away? ELION: Not at all. I lost her. EIRA: Oh. She… I’m… sorry. ELION: She didn’t die, if that’s what you think. At least, not in that way. No, I imagine she lives, still. But the woman she once was… Death is simple, you see. We grieve in the face of it. And grief has a name and a shape. It’s understood. There are far worse things than dying. To carry on when there’s nothing left of us… That is suffering of another sort, entirely.  EIRA: And I remind you of this? Shouldn’t you resent me? ELION: Not at all. I’m reminded of the fondest memories. You see, like you, she hailed from the mountain regions; One of the snow-touched elves of the north. I wondered if you might have had elvenblood yourself. That striking color of your hair… EIRA: I’m no elf. Just unlucky. ELION: Unlucky? EIRA: My parents were perfectly plain and human, in a village of other perfectly plain humans. I imagine that’s why they threw me out when I was barely strong enough to open my eyes. I’ve been putting people off since I was an infant. So forgive me if your advances don’t exactly stir my pot. ELION: Then, my apologies. I should not have expected you to respond the same. She was, I suppose, a particular case. EIRA: How did you… meet? ELION: Very accidentally. We met during one of my assignments long ago. She was no stranger to battle; A ranger, and better with a blade than I. They say poison is a maiden’s murder weapon, but she preferred a more direct approach, and I’d never been beaten so badly. EIRA: You were sent to kill her? ELION: No, I was sent to kill her client. And I did kill him, but she certainly didn’t make it easy for me. EIRA: Well, that’s a story if I’ve ever heard one. ELION: I have many. I expect you do, too. We could exchange them sometime. I can be quite civil when I need to. Dinner, drinks, I’ll even wear my hair up. EIRA: Tch. Do I look like the type to be wined and dined? ELION: I hoped not. EIRA: Then you weren’t wrong. But I’m no one’s replacement. ELION: I would never think to replace her. But then, seeing you, I considered maybe I ought to finally move on. EIRA: Find someone else. ELION: Ah, well. Suppose I should. I’m happy to accept when I’m defeated. But you must at least give me credit for trying. For what it’s worth, I was sincere. EIRA: … ELION: About what I said before… the trials… do be careful and look after yourself. EIRA: I— ELION: Yes, I know. You’re strong. And more formidable people than you have been ground to dust in those games. Even if you do survive… I hope that when you come out on the other side, you’ll still remember just how strong you were.