#trinea

Trinea took the opportunity to slip away from the proceedings as Orin took his oath for all to hear, disappearing back into the cave system. She waved off a pair of healers who noticed a very pronounced limp in her walk, directing herself back to the familiarity of the war room. She approached the carved stone chair at the head of the long table, slowly lowering herself into it and leaning against the surface. She was exhausted, both from her injuries and the emotional effort it took to remain calm. The once confident female rested her head in her hands, letting out a sigh that carried the weight of this whole disaster.

Soon after she sat down, there came the sound of footsteps in the corridor outside of the war room. Footsteps that stopped at the door, a small “tch” sound following soon after.

“The healers tell me that you’ve ignored them.” a familiar voice spoke, a hint of laughter in the words. Cahira stood in the doorway, leaning against the molding, watching his mother closely and looking for any signs that she was in pain. “You do know that they’re just trying to help you, right? Might do you good at a time like this.” his tone was soft, nurturing, much like the tone Trinea had taken with him when he was just a child.

Cahira pushed himself up straight and headed over to a chair near his mother, taking a seat. “Are you okay?”

“I’m among those who are still living,” Trinea replied dryly, lifting her head from her hands to look over at her son. By Cahira’s tone, she could tell he was just as worried about her as Pharys. She really wasn’t sure if she was ‘okay’, or if being okay meant being at peace with what had happened. Neither was particularly true at the time.

“I’ve made many mistakes to bring the clan to where it is now,” she continued, “I tore a rift in this clan when I sought vengeance for Clay. I put his life above my people and innocent lives that I personally destroyed. There’s blood on my hands that will never wash away.” The woman looked more weary than she ever had in her life, as if she’d aged a great many years over the days of the siege.

A frown played on Cahira’s face, a look that he barely ever wore. To see his mother like this was painful, especially when she was so regularly confident in herself and her actions. “You were a mother who had lost a child. If anyone is to blame you for that, they would be wrong. Though…” Cahira, who had leaned in closer to Trinea, leaned away a bit, putting his hand on a knee, “Taking it out on so many for the actions of a few may have been a bit much.” He pursed his lips a bit, waiting for his mother’s reaction.

“Though, people make mistakes. I know this and I know that you know this. Your vision was clouded by grief and being blinded in such a way could bring down the best of us.”

Cahira reached over, resting his hand on Trinea’s forearm closest to him, a gesture that was meant to console her.

Trinea offered Cahira a smile, strained as it was. Her son had certainly put it politely, a pang of guilt washing over her at the mention of how far beyond the line her warpath had been. “A leader must choose to act above their personal feelings,” she said softly, leaning into the table, her exhaustion evident. “A leader must do what’s best for their clan. I believe that Orin can make the choices I couldn’t when I was faced with them.”

Trinea reached up to slowly rub her face, feeling herself sinking against the table as the moments passed. She would be forced to rest one way or another.

Cahira, noticing Trinea’s fatigue, stood, his hand moving to her back just below the nape of her neck. He rubbed the spot gently. “Orin will be just as great a leader as you were, mother. And you will have the forgiveness of the clan in time. For now though, I suggest you retire to your room. You look dreadful.” He smirked a bit and hooked his remaining arm underneath Trinea’s, helping her up with ease and escorting her to her room.