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“When she says she loves you, tell her you love her too.
…Oh, hurry, time is running out. But don’t you run away, run away, before you tell her you love her.”
He stares down at the young girl clutching a pillow close to her chest. Her eyebrows furrow together as she tightens her grip on the soft material, and she begins to mumble incoherent words. She’s told him about her nightmares. Her fears of death - not her own death, but death caused by her hands. She doesn’t say it out loud, but he knows what she means: she’s scared of becoming her sister… or maybe she’s scared that she might have destroyed the life of the only person left of her family. She’s never been clear with her explanations. It’s always so dark… Then it’s… It just feels like there are all these demons haunting me.
There’s something… fascinating about how naive she is. She’s so small and young, yet she has more strength and fortitude than grown, Noxian men fighting for their lives on the battlefield. And she hasn’t even done anything regarding the military - something she believes changed her sister so dramatically that she’s turned into another person. He’s seen men much older than her (and twice her size) fall apart the moment that they see the desecrated bodies of their victims. Even the harshest of training for the Noxian Guard simply can’t ready soldiers for the cruel end that their own hands carry out. The best soldiers brush away the feeling. The others pretend that it’s all okay (and end up going insane and disappearing off the face of Runeterra).
Shrugging, he supposes that the girl’s life could be considered a battlefield. She’s never lied to him, and she’s always told him every one of her little secrets, even the ones about those odd people who she meets in back alleys during deliveries (and, he reminds himself, he should probably be more worried about such people). He doesn’t think he can tell her many of his own secrets, and all of the stories of his own childhood were nothing more than half-hearted lies (because he can’t remember his own childhood). She’s talked about how harsh her father and sister were whenever they trained together, and she’s confessed to him that she doesn’t want to join the military. She’s described her mother as perfection incarnate, that being a blacksmith is the best career anyone could have - and this is all based upon her often less-than-accurate memory of a woman she knew for six years, with the brain of a developing child. Her light-hearted answers are enough to make him smile. She loves everything in the world and can’t seem to hold grudges against anyone. But even he has to admit it - she’s pretty stupid. Not that he’d ever tell her that to her face. (At least, in a serious manner.)
“Tally?”
“Hm?”
“Please don’t go.”
He freezes.
“I need you to stay.”
I need you too.
It’s on the tip of his tongue.
She rolls onto her back and searches for him through blurred vision. Her small, lithe hands reach out for him desperately, but he can’t find it in himself to touch his rough, calloused fingers against her soft, childish ones.
Sighing, he bites his lip and shakes his head slowly, readjusting his cloak so that a shadow is cast upon his tired face.
“It’s my duty.”
(He’s always been good at that. Making excuses.)
When the silence rolls in, he think he has said enough to shut her up.
“I love you.”
She always seems to prove him wrong.
His voice refuses to allow him to answer, and something invisible tightens around his lungs. After a brief moment of contemplation, (I should just run right now) he decides to stand his ground and look at her pitifully wide brown eyes staring straight into his soul. Those are the eyes of someone with a big heart and an open mind. Someone who sees the best in everyone, no matter how bad they really are. Those are the eyes of someone who shouldn’t be in Noxus. She doesn’t deserve to live in a hell like this.
et she’s here, and she’s barely alive.
“…I’ll be back soon.” His eyes water, and he has to turn away from her before the tears streak down his cheeks. He doesn’t know how much of that is a lie, and if he could stay true to his words. The Grand General is sending him out on this mission to deliberately throw Talon into the thick of action - whether he is doing it to test Talon’s mettle or get the assassin killed, he’ll never know. Talon’s smart though, smarter than most people make him out to be. He rarely reveals weaknesses. He’s a well-trained assassin, not some meat-headed brute, like most Demacians he’s encountered - he would never let himself get stuck in a situation he couldn’t get out of. (Except this one?)
Her soft whimpers break him out of his thoughts. She starts to argue, but he can tell by her quiet breathing that she’s already half-asleep. Attachments do nothing but impair his strength and having such weighing thoughts on his mind would do little more than slow him down. (Or so he chooses to believe.) It pains him to not be able to return those simple three words, but there isn’t much that he can do. He knows that he needs to tell her the honest truth. He should be holding her in his arms, telling her all about his destroyed hopes and dreams, or the fragmented memories of a life he doesn’t remember experiencing, or maybe describe to her the adorable way that she looks at him with big puppy eyes to get whatever she wants. He knows that she’s going to slip from his grasp one day. But he doesn’t know how to gather the right words to say. He has so much that he wants to explain to her. He’s never been good at talking, but…
He’s never looked at anyone like this before. He’s never felt so weak, so fragile, so exposed. The words force their way up his throat, and before he can stop himself, he tells her something (something so honest and true, for just this one moment) he’d never admit if she were actually awake.
“I love you too.”
But perhaps one attachment isn’t such a huge problem after all.
