L
Lady Alainn
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Pencaliel beamed triumphantly. Though Mala had put up a fight, she'd bested him, as was evident in his dripping wings and drenched hair. It wasn't just the rush of victory shining in her clear gaze, though. It was so much more than that-- a boost of confidence the Druid so desperately needed. She'd won. Her! A little elf against a dragonkin warrior! Well, Mala technically wasn't a warrior. Not yet at any rate. But he would be. In a few days, when his kin took him under their wings, he would be. He already had the heart of one. And she could hold her own against him.
That meant she stood a chance against Kontaro.
It was this quiet knowledge hovering in the back of her mind that gave the elf such joy in her accomplishment and in Mala's soggy defeat. Now that she knew the fundamentals, now that she could practice them and strengthen her magic correctly, Kontaro could not maker her cower in fear again. She was ready!
...or perhaps not.
Something in Mala's eyes and his returning smile made her breath catch sharply in the back of her throat. The glowing irises intensified in colour until they were anything but gold-- shining and shimmering to rival even the glossiest of opals. 'Well done,' they seemed to be saying, 'but you only won that round because I let you.' His next actions only confirmed her interpretation. As the water began to swell and churn beneath him, Pencaliel's breath dislodged itself and plummeted down to her toes, tearing her newly found confidence down with it. His raw power singed the air around them, drawing in so much energy it made her dizzy. True, Mala was only flinging a few stones together, but the sheer magnitude of it overwhelmed her. This was the kind of power a Sidhe had. A shudder rippled down her body and Pencaliel wrapped her arms around herself to try to keep them at bay. Without the aid of her bracers, there was no way she could stand against that kind of magic. She was far too weak.
Pencaliel noticed then that the hum had died down within the waters and the elf hesitantly raised her eyes to meet Mala's. He was standing there so innocently: smiling, proud, waiting for her to say something. Her gaze swept over to the small wall he'd constructed without much difficulty. The stream swelled just behind it and gurgled cheerfully over the newly placed stones before splashing down the other side to carry on its merry little way. Was it actually cheery, though? Or a mocking laughter? And was it just her imagination or were the stones leering at her?
They were! They knew she didn't have the control yet to complete such a task so effortlessly. What was a surging water serpent in comparison to a useful dam? What was dallying in moldable, bendable water compared to controlling the toughest, immovable element with ease? Pencaliel was nothing but pathetic! 'Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic!' the stones jeered. The babbling water joined in with harsh laughter. The longer she stared at them, the louder they cried. Surely even Mala could hear them--!
'You're slipping again!' her inner Voice shouted in alarm.
With great effort, the elf tore her gaze away. Her lips parted in an effort to deepen shallow breaths. Why were these feelings returning now? They'd been having so much fun! Pencaliel had felt so free! Besides which, no one was around to steady Mala if her anger surfaced. Control. Maybe she could tame the feelings the same way Kolmar had taught her to tame her energy? The Druid briefly closed her eyes and sought for that inner peace she'd recently felt: chasing it, finding it, putting her shoulder behind it to shove it back to the foreground once more.
It wasn't really working, but it did make her feel better. Brown eyes determinedly met golden once more.
"I suppose that will make it easier to bathe," she said at last, the consternation in her tone unmistakable. Other words started bubbling to the surface. "Of course you're much more skilled in magic. It's instinctual, isn't it? Instinctual in everyone but me. You weren't stupid enough to learn it the wrong way, were you? Not like me."
'Everybody cares about Mala much more than you. They're all looking out for him and eager to help him fight his demons. But who is looking out for you? Who notices your demons? Who wants to help you fight them? No one. Mala can't and the others don't care.'
Tears stung in the corners of her eyes. Her arms wrapped around herself a little tighter. Why didn't anybody care about her?
'The words, the words, the words!' the Voice warned.
But they were suddenly there, tempting her to unleash the frustrations inside. No! She wouldn't yell at Mala! Pencaliel drew in a deep breath and shook her head vehemently, as if the simple gesture could scatter the taunting little demons as well as droplets of water. Something to do, she needed something physical to vent her feelings. Her eyes fell on Mala's sorry clothes.
"You go ahead and bathe first," she told him, her voice trembling. "Let me scrub your clothes." The Druid didn't give Mala any room to protest. Instantly her feet were moving and she was at his side, her brown fingers deftly unsnapping the first of the clasps on his tunic.
That meant she stood a chance against Kontaro.
It was this quiet knowledge hovering in the back of her mind that gave the elf such joy in her accomplishment and in Mala's soggy defeat. Now that she knew the fundamentals, now that she could practice them and strengthen her magic correctly, Kontaro could not maker her cower in fear again. She was ready!
...or perhaps not.
Something in Mala's eyes and his returning smile made her breath catch sharply in the back of her throat. The glowing irises intensified in colour until they were anything but gold-- shining and shimmering to rival even the glossiest of opals. 'Well done,' they seemed to be saying, 'but you only won that round because I let you.' His next actions only confirmed her interpretation. As the water began to swell and churn beneath him, Pencaliel's breath dislodged itself and plummeted down to her toes, tearing her newly found confidence down with it. His raw power singed the air around them, drawing in so much energy it made her dizzy. True, Mala was only flinging a few stones together, but the sheer magnitude of it overwhelmed her. This was the kind of power a Sidhe had. A shudder rippled down her body and Pencaliel wrapped her arms around herself to try to keep them at bay. Without the aid of her bracers, there was no way she could stand against that kind of magic. She was far too weak.
Pencaliel noticed then that the hum had died down within the waters and the elf hesitantly raised her eyes to meet Mala's. He was standing there so innocently: smiling, proud, waiting for her to say something. Her gaze swept over to the small wall he'd constructed without much difficulty. The stream swelled just behind it and gurgled cheerfully over the newly placed stones before splashing down the other side to carry on its merry little way. Was it actually cheery, though? Or a mocking laughter? And was it just her imagination or were the stones leering at her?
They were! They knew she didn't have the control yet to complete such a task so effortlessly. What was a surging water serpent in comparison to a useful dam? What was dallying in moldable, bendable water compared to controlling the toughest, immovable element with ease? Pencaliel was nothing but pathetic! 'Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic!' the stones jeered. The babbling water joined in with harsh laughter. The longer she stared at them, the louder they cried. Surely even Mala could hear them--!
'You're slipping again!' her inner Voice shouted in alarm.
With great effort, the elf tore her gaze away. Her lips parted in an effort to deepen shallow breaths. Why were these feelings returning now? They'd been having so much fun! Pencaliel had felt so free! Besides which, no one was around to steady Mala if her anger surfaced. Control. Maybe she could tame the feelings the same way Kolmar had taught her to tame her energy? The Druid briefly closed her eyes and sought for that inner peace she'd recently felt: chasing it, finding it, putting her shoulder behind it to shove it back to the foreground once more.
It wasn't really working, but it did make her feel better. Brown eyes determinedly met golden once more.
"I suppose that will make it easier to bathe," she said at last, the consternation in her tone unmistakable. Other words started bubbling to the surface. "Of course you're much more skilled in magic. It's instinctual, isn't it? Instinctual in everyone but me. You weren't stupid enough to learn it the wrong way, were you? Not like me."
'Everybody cares about Mala much more than you. They're all looking out for him and eager to help him fight his demons. But who is looking out for you? Who notices your demons? Who wants to help you fight them? No one. Mala can't and the others don't care.'
Tears stung in the corners of her eyes. Her arms wrapped around herself a little tighter. Why didn't anybody care about her?
'The words, the words, the words!' the Voice warned.
But they were suddenly there, tempting her to unleash the frustrations inside. No! She wouldn't yell at Mala! Pencaliel drew in a deep breath and shook her head vehemently, as if the simple gesture could scatter the taunting little demons as well as droplets of water. Something to do, she needed something physical to vent her feelings. Her eyes fell on Mala's sorry clothes.
"You go ahead and bathe first," she told him, her voice trembling. "Let me scrub your clothes." The Druid didn't give Mala any room to protest. Instantly her feet were moving and she was at his side, her brown fingers deftly unsnapping the first of the clasps on his tunic.
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