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She did not see as other people saw. She'd known this since the time she was young -- offbeat, strange, a discordant silence in the laughter of her playmates. A child of books was a child of few friends, her caretaker had said, and whether this was true or not, it certainly held with Miriel. The strain of awkward shuffling and reluctant inclusion was abrasive to her, and the world of thought, of theory and speculation and vivid knowledge was much more attractive.
Life was too valuable to waste over trivial matters.
She had quickly learned that modesty was unbecoming -- honesty was her strong point, and she played it to the best of her ability. Indeed, she did not think she could be any way else. A mage was a position that held respect, and in her occupation, if nothing else, she could take pride. Colors, sounds, numbers -- they could be quantified. They held no relative morality, in that shifting, manipulative way other people held.
Perhaps what Miriel was looking for was a single point of truth.
To say that the spirit of discovery alone had drawn her to Kellam would be untrue. His unassuming demeanor was certainly of interest, but more of that, he demanded nothing of her, simply satisfied to be in her company. In this respect, they were alike.
In others, they had little common at all.
"What reason explains your presence here?"
The night was balmy, a fair change after the grueling pace the army had set that day, and Kellam had been standing in the same spot for some time now. He startled, turning to look at her.
"Now who's the one becoming invisible?" he said, raising his eyebrows. Miriel frowned.
"Although I am an accomplished mage, I have yet to master the art of --"
"I was kidding." His lips perked up, and Miriel found herself fascinated by the movement. How much the others missed out by not noticing him. He paused to think. "I can afford to live life a little slower when no one sees me, you know? Nobody's bothering me to do kitchen duty, or feed the horses, or pitch the tents. After I've taken care of my duties sometimes I just... go off to be alone."
Miriel pondered his words, dissecting them as carefully as any precious specimen. "Do you enjoy the solitude?" Kellam laughed.
"It's funny, isn't it? You'd think a guy like me would have enough of not socializing, but sometimes it's just nice to get away from it all."
"In my experience," Miriel said carefully, "there is a great difference between being alone among peers and being alone by choice. Perhaps, if one is inevitable, it is desirous to choose the other." When there was no reply, Miriel looked up to see the knight studying her. As practiced as she was in several languages, it was difficult to decipher the look on his face.
"Well, I have you with me now, don't I?" he chuckled. Miriel did not realize she had smiled in reply until it was answered by his own rare grin.
"Indeed, you do. Pray tell, what captured your attention at such a late hour?"
He walked to her side and pointed to a copse of trees. "Listen closely. Do you hear that?"
"Are you referring to the nasal whistling sound emitting from those treetops?"
"Yeah, that exactly. Those are Plegian desert jays."
"I was not aware you were learned in the field of the natural sciences."
"Uh, not really, no. I'm just used to doing a lot of sentry work. You'd be surprised what you learn to notice, when nobody seems to notice you."
"It is admirable that you choose to educate your mind thus."
Kellam chuckled awkwardly. "I'm a knight. It's kind of my job to pay attention to things."
"But edify one's mind is still a noble pursuit. I am slightly envious of your opportunity to watch without being watched. It is the fondest wish of any behavioral analyst. Truly, just by the presence of the observer--"
"The results and behavior of the observed will change." Miriel looked up in surprise.
"I did not realize you were learned in the tenants of scholarship."
He shrugged. "Well, uh, I've been doing some reading recently."
"It hardly seems to be relevant to your occupation."
"Yeah, well, edifying the mind and all that, right? Besides, you're hella smart. I just-- well, I thought it would be nice to have things to talk with you about."
Miriel did not see as others saw, but that did not mean she did not have a perceptive heart. "Kellam, I am honored that you would expend effort in order to improve the quality of our time together," she said, voice warm. "I, too, consider you a valued companion and close friend."
Flustered, Kellam opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it and closed it again. Miriel took this as permission to continue.
"I am not one to notice communication that is not overt in nature, so forgive me if I misunderstand you." She cleared her throat. It was illogical for her to be so nervous. "Is it your intention to court me, Kellam?"
There was a beat of silence. "I was kind of hoping you would let me ask you first."
"So your answer is affirmative."
The knight floundered. "Look, if you're not comfortable with it just forget I ever said anything. I wanted to go about it all organized and logical like you'd like it--"
"Human nature, in my observations, is rarely logical." Miriel paused. Sensory data -- sound, color, weight and density -- was fairly straight forward to communicate. For something as this, she found her usually forthright vocabulary lacking. "I- I am willing to continue this experiment."
"This... experiment?"
"This experiment of you and me," she said quickly. "To find together that intangible end product at the end of this chain of reactions, what some call happiness, what I would prefer to think of lasting wholeness. A completeness of joy, if you would allow."
Kellam had remained silent, but now a small smile was teasing at his mouth. Miriel still could not interpret it -- she would have to apply herself, to learn the language of his many smiles. "A completeness of joy, huh?"
"Indeed."
"You don't think we can be complete alone?"
"On the contrary, I would not have you any other way than you are now, independent unto yourself," Miriel said gravely. While she suspected Kellam was engaging in what was called 'teasing', she thought the question merited a serious answer. "Nonetheless, I find it preferable to choose to be complete with another, than to be complete on one's own. The sum of us would be greater than our parts."
"That doesn't sound very scientific."
"You, my love, are an altogether new field of study, one I intend to pursue for the rest of my days."