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The oppressive light seemed warmer than usual.
Emet-Selch, enemy and herald of unending light on the First had saved Y'shtola. Refusing to let her soul drift, pulling her back to the Scions. For that, Fayt would always be grateful. Ascian, enemy, unlikely ally even, he had done something none of them were capable of.
And they didn't have to suffer anymore losses. Not today, at least.
The entirety of Slitherbough was alive with celebration and joy at their arrival. Whispers of freedom, the return of the night sky spread like wildfire. The people of the small village were congratulating the Scions, thanking them for everything.
Runar, bless him, saw Y'shtola and practically pounced her like a giant cat. Twirling her around and squeezing her like a stuffed toy rather than the grown Miqo'te she was. Yet the smile on her face was undeniable.
Runar's joy was in infectious, the mood was light, so why did it leave a sour taste in her mouth? An ache in her chest?
Having passed the good news to Runar and the Night's Blessed, the Scions' next destination was Fanow. As her allies stepped into the grand Rak'tika Greatwood, Fayt couldn't help herself as she lingered. Gaze caught on the unending treetops above.
"You all go on ahead; there's something I want to double check."
The ease with which the lie rolls of her tongue is shocking. Fayt was not a liar, and she didn't tolerate lies, either. It was uncomfortable, doing the thing she so despised to her allies. What she needed right now was time. Time to think, some distance, space—that's what she needs. With a smile and a wave the Scions are on their way, leaving Fayt alone with her thoughts. So the Viera heads out opposite her destination, intent on enjoying a few moments to herself.
The leaves overhead are silent as they rustle in the breeze. Pools of sunlight swaying along with the branches. It's quiet as she heads further into the woods and away from her allies. With every step comes a stronger sense of calm, of self. She heaves a heavy sigh as she casts her gaze towards the treetops once more.
"You're distracted."
His voice is enough to make her heart race, to have her turning on her heel and reaching for her weapon. Yet as she took in the Ascian standing before her, she couldn't help but note the strange look on his face—pity, perhaps? She heaves yet another sigh, hands falling limp at her side as she offers him a more genuine smile. The dappled sunlight illuminating her purple eyes as she addresses him.
"Thank you, Emet-Selch. You did us a favor today that can never be repaid."
It's not enough to see him roll his eyes, no, she can practically feel the disdain as he dismisses her appreciation with a wave of his hand. Cold and disinterested in pleasantries. "I simply did what was convenient. No reason to thank me. After all, one day you will slay me by your own hand, will you not?"
There it is, that trademarked, irritating confidence and swagger that makes her hair stand on end and heartbeat skyrocket. And she wants nothing more to bathe in that arrogance, that attitude, for just a moment longer.
With a smile and a slight incline of her head she turns and heads back where she was initially headed, ending her ambling and setting course for Fanow, intent on ending the conversation there. As his steps fell in sync with hers, she knew there would be no escaping Emet-Selch today.
"You don't seem too thrilled, hero."
Fayt's ears twitch, her companion's golden eyes practically glowing in the low light of the forest as he walks beside her. Their steps as one as they echoed through the trees. As if they had done this before countless times. It made her heart ache, the familiarity. As if this was something she had longed for deep down, and only now realized it with him by her side. A sigh slips past her lips.
She was happy. Thrilled, even, that Y'shtola had returned and she hadn't lost another ally. The woman was a close ally—a great friend—and to think she was anything less than thankful and relieved to have her back by her side would be incorrect.
But then what was with the ache in her chest?
That painful feeling, dragging and clawing and tearing its way through her heart as she watched Runar and Y'shtola reunite? The way she felt so alone, so isolated, as she witnessed his pure joy? It was ridiculous. It was cruel, to even think for a moment that she was upset at their happiness.
So why wasn't she smiling? Why was it only Emet-Selch who seemed to bring a smile to her lips as of late?
"I am thrilled." But her voice was empty, lacking any true joy or emotion. It shocked her. "Y'shtola is alive, thanks to you. We don't have to bury another friend."
"But…?"
He goads her, inching her towards the revelation she's far too terrified to face at the moment. A distraction; that's exactly what she needs. So she steels herself, barricading her heart as best she can, ignoring that lonely ache that seems to only lessen when he's around, and tilts her head his direction.
Silence coats the forest like a blanket, warm and familiar, as they continue the trek towards the village. Fayt refuses to give him what he wants, despite the soft voice in the back of her head insisting otherwise. It's then she's hit with a question that shocks even her, and the beginning of a smile tug at her lips.
"Tell me more of your Empress."
"Pardon?"
It shouldn't fill her with such joy to see Emet-Selch so truly and utterly caught off guard, but she can't help it. She barely bites back her growing smile at his incredulous look, heart skipping a beat at the way he holds her gaze.
"I've been curious," Fayt continues, casting her gaze towards the foliage overhead, "you've spoken of having your own precious people. Dealing with loss, just like we have. Surely your Empress is among those dear to you."
"I could ask the same of you, hero." Golden eyes darken a shade as he peers into what feels like the depths of her soul. "You ask of me and my history, but I know nothing of yours." A blatant lie, not that he would ever tell her.
It's not as if she kept her personal journal very well hidden in the Pendants. So what if he had read a page or two?
"Tell me; do you have anyone awaiting your return to the Source? A lover? Or perhaps a plaything to satiate your more…carnal desires?"
Fayt slows to a stop. The forest around them grows silent, and in that moment Emet-Selch wonders if he had toed too far over the line. That his favorite plaything would rush off in a burst of emotion.
"I've tried. More times than I can count. But all they see is a title. A hero, parading around. Not a person." A sigh slips past her lips as she crosses her arms, brow furrowed. "I'm placed on a pedestal none of them try or feel they can reach. So I'm left on my own. Not that I haven't…spent time with another like that before."
"But they never filled the…the hole."
Brows raise to his hairline as the Ancient cocks his head to the side. "The hole? I can assure you, there are plenty of men who are capable—"
"Not like that, you pervert." The life returns to the Viera's voice then. Earning a smile from the man before her. She had fallen for his trap again. "It's always felt like something was…missing in my life. Having lost my memories, I can't help but wonder if I have forgotten someone dear to me. What if they think I'm dead? What if they've been searching for me, all this time?"
Fayt's breath leaves in quick pants then, bottled up feelings bursting to the surface as she begins to pace back and forth before Emet-Selch. Why she felt comfortable enough to divulge any of this to her enemy she had no idea. But it just felt right. As if he was the one person here who could understand her troubles. The cocktail of complex emotions she refused to give a name to.
All these years spent with the Scions had felt as if she'd found her home. They were the family for her—a woman with no name, nothing to her history, a perfectly blank slate—and they opened their hearts and home to her. Things were never easy, what with the mantle of 'Warrior of Light' being thrust upon her, but she had a purpose. She found a reason to strive forward and work towards recovering the memories she thought forever lost to her.
"The piece that's missing…what if it's them? The person I abandoned, forgot all about for all these years? It's silly—there's no guarantee this theoretical person is even real—but I can't help it. I can't help but wonder, what if…"
Her vision blurs. Tears gather on her lashes and roll down her cheeks. A hiccuping breath rattles her chest. By the Twelve, she no better than a child exposing herself like this in front of their enemy. No matter what he may have done for them today, there was always tomorrow.
Fayt clears her throat, aggressively wiping at her eyes, her cheeks. "Apologies for losing my composure like that. A smile better suits a hero, after all." Though the apology itself feels like an act. After all, breaking that dam for even a moment alleviated her aching heart. Gave her just a little bit of relief.
That in and of itself was enough of a system shock for the Viera.
With a mostly clear head, the woman makes for Fanow once more. "I best be getting back to—"
"Fayt."
Emet-Selch grabs her wrist before she can step away and pulls her close. From here she can see his every lash. Feel his every exhale. Hopefully he can't feel the way her hear rate accelerates. Goosebumps break out along her flesh as his gloved hand travels up her arm, the backs of his fingers grazing the skin of her neck before finally wiping the tears that refused to stop falling from her eyes.
Fayt finds herself unable to speak. The tenderness of his touch, his look, stunning her into silence.
"What say you, hero?" The satin tips of his gloved fingers brush against her bottom lip. An invitation, a warning. "How would you feel about falling for the villain of your story? The big bad wolf and the Warrior of Darkness…seems like quite the pair to me."
The force of her laughter sends the Viera doubling over, tears stinging her eyes as the sound echoes through the forest. It's with those simple words that her earlier apprehension is practically gone, a weight lifted from her shoulders. She makes no move to step away, to add any distance between them. He had earned her trust and she was content to be by him, as odd as it may seem. Yet as her laughter, full and bright and warm, echoes around them she can't help but note the heavy look to his gaze. The way his lips weren't pulled into their usual smug grin.
As if he meant every single word.
The woman's laughter trails off slowly. Her heartbeat steadily picking up as she feels the intensity of his gaze. The reality settling on her shoulders, threatening to drag her deep, deep down below the forest floor.
"I'm serious," he adds once she has gone silent. His thumb grazing her bottom lip once more. A flame blooming to life within her chest, her lower stomach. Fayt's ears twitch as the silence of the forest becomes overwhelmed by her erratic heartbeat. "Our fate is already intertwined, dear hero. Why don't we make the most of it?"
A large, warm hand moves to rest on her waist. Holding her in place as he leans close. Yet Fayt makes no attempt to pull away. In fact, she can't help herself as she leans in. Her lashes tickle her cheeks as her eyes flutter shut. The warmth of his breath brushes against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine.
In this moment, it is just the two of them. The rest of the world having fallen to silence, still as if it too is holding its breath. For a moment she worries he may feel the unsteady rhythm of her heart and crack a joke at her expense. Or, perhaps, against all odds, he was in a similar situation?
Maybe Emet-Selch longed for her just as she longed for him, the gravity of the revelation be damned.
Her toes curl in her heels as she awaits the feel of his lips against her own. Would they be soft, his kiss like a long lost lover's? Or were they chapped and rough, a man intent on staking his claim rather than proclaiming his affection?
Too bad she'd never know.
"Fayt! Did you get lost?"
Thancred's voice rises clear above the silence, shattering whatever momentary peace and mood had fallen over the pair. The Viera is quick to shove Emet-Selch, the Ascian stumbling a few steps back as she turns to run towards the source of the voice.
"I'm sorry, Thancred! The local fauna were just so peculiar; I got a bit distracted!" Yet another lie, slipping past her lips as easy as breathing. Her stomach churned at the thought.
Yet she doesn't bother sparing a glance over her shoulder, unwilling to face whatever it is that awaited her when looking back at Emet-Selch. Not with the way she couldn't think straight. Not with how she longed to taste him, to see just what a kiss with him would feel like. No, she didn't have time for that kind of distraction. Those kind of traitorous feelings.
So she ran towards Fanow and never looked back.
Emet-Selch, of course, was incredibly displeased.
Or perhaps irritated was a better word to describe his current predicament. Glancing down at his pristine, white gloves he flexes his hands once, twice. Then slowly, leisurely, he traces his own lips with the fingertips that touched her lips. Pretending that ghost of a feeling was her. Imagining she was here, his fingers threaded through her hair as he holds her there. Tastes her, takes all that he could want from her and more.
The man chuckles and shakes his head. "It seems that even after all these years, I'm unable to resist your charms. How troublesome."
Yet Emet-Selch can't hide the true smile tugging at his lips as he makes his way out of the forest. Leaving this encounter behind and preparing, dreaming, of what will happen when they next cross paths.