OAC: Ch 1: Tears and Rain

Rain continued to pour down from the heavens, pattering against the window, an appropriate setting for the mood within the room. The flames inside the wood stove crackled, breaking the almost painful silence. The lad and the girl sat across from each other, the girl on a wooden chair next to the stove, the lad sitting on the edge of the bed. They both sat in their wet clothes, too consumed by their sorrow to care and too embarassed by the other's presence to consider changing. Both of them stared at nothing in particular, succumbing to the mutual emotional numbness. The lad finally looked up at the girl, blinking back tears in an attempt to seem more mature than he was. She sat on the chair, knees bunched up against her forehead, chest heaving with silent sobs. He looked away, his eyes landing on the bag left behind by his companion. As he choked back tears, he realized that some of the items might fit her temporarily while her clothes dried. He reached over to grab the bag, the leather journal falling out as he picked it up. He looked at it, resolving to read it later, before putting it aside. He wiped his hand on the bedsheet to dry it before reaching in and gently pulling out a thick woolen nightgown. He put the bag down and softly walked over to the girl, handing it to her silently.

She looked up at him, unsure of his trustworthiness, until she realized how damp and cold she was in her clothes. She reached out to take it, looking around for a safe place to change. Much to her surprise, he walked over to the far corner and stood still, staring at the wall without moving so much as an inch. She watched him for many long moments, watching to see if he would turn his head. When he didn't, she bolstered up the courage to do what she needed to. She stepped behind the chair for some level of privacy before quickly changing into the robe, appreciating the soft warm wool almost immediately. She hung up her clothes quickly, then returned to her seat. She expected him to turn immediately, but he continued to stand there. Moments passed while she stared at him, watching the puddle spread under his feet. The silence resumed, broken by the occasional droplet of water falling to the ground.

When he was satisfied she was fully comfortable, he turned once more and moved to his bag, grabbing what clothes he could out of it. He looked at her momentarily before turning back to his corner. She stared at him, not sure what he was doing before she saw him pull off his shirt. Her eyes opened wide as she saw several large scars crossing his back and shoulders, evidence of past battles. When his hands reached for his pants, she placed a hand over her eyes and looked away. Curiousity only went so far after all.

He walked next to her, placing his wet clothes on the line next to hers, sadly noting the wet garments his companion had placed on the line earlier hanging next to his. The girl, having realized he was no longer in the stages of undress, looked up at him. Her eyes were bright blue, and though they shone with tears unshed, their innocence captivated him. He looked away, trying to find some reason that she would be the target of the assassin's wrath. She continued to look at him, carefully observing his facial movements, the anger, the sorrow, the uncertainty, all flashing past.

"Why did this happen?"

The sudden break of the silence seemed to scare both of them. She hid her head in her hands and looked away while he simply stared at the wall in front of him. Neither said anything, the question hanging thick in the air, until the lad felt compelled to answer.

"I don't know."

It was unsatisfactory, frustratingly so, but it was the best answer he had, and they both knew it. The lad went out to stand by the window, eyes drawn unconsciously to black smoke rising in the air from where the building had been burning. His hands clenched into a fist as his head bowed in silence. He could feel her eyes on him, gentle and compassionate, a calming presence. She stood and moved softly over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. It was a simple gesture, but somehow both of them knew things would be ok. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday. At least, that was the hope.

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Rain continued to fall, though the lightning and thunder had ceased for the moment. Though the world seemed slightly brighter, the clouds stretching to every horizon meant that the next few days would see nothing but rain. When the lad finally awoke, it was the sweet pitter-patter of rain on the window which whispered in his ears. He sat up from the floor stretching, having given the bed to the girl in which to sleep. He looked across the room at the bed, watching as the bulb under the covers rose and fell rhythmically. He smiled slightly, happy that she seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

He reached out to grasp the leather-bound journal, battered and bruised from years of use. His hand trembled as he reached for the clasp, unable to shake the sensation of her presence from his mind. With a frustrated sigh, he set it aside, running a hand through his hair, unable to complete the task. He looked up at the bed when he heard some shuffling to see the girl, still drowsy from sleep, looking across at him. Their eyes met for a moment, intense in its simplicity, before they both looked away.

"She meant alot to you, didn't she?"

The girl's voice was melodic, an attribute he had missed the night before in his grief. The words rang in his ears, the truth he had known for years finally said out loud. He nodded slightly, turning his head away from her. He reached up to finger the pendant on the end of the gold chain around his neck, a remnant of his constant companion. None of this went unnoticed by the girl, who simply sat quietly, letting him grieve in his own time. She looked around at the room, trying to find something to say or do to relieve the silence.

"My name is Aryellia."

He looked up, surprised to hear this simple admission. He scratched behind his ear, using it as an excuse to look away. She looked at him expectantly, obviously waiting to hear his name. He shook his head.

"I am Seeker."

His voice was deep and quiet, a stark contrast to his slim figure. She gave him a confused look, unsure of what she heard.

"I don't--"

"Where I come from," he began, anticipating her question, "names must be earned." He sat back, leaning his head against the wall. "I have earned the name of Seeker, and it is what I am now called."

"How does that even work?" she responded, disbelief thick in her voice. "A person must have a name, I mean how..." She trailed off, realizing that something about the nature of his heritage was sacred to him. "I'm sorry."

"Do not be." He stood to his feet, picking up the journal as he did. "It would be unusual for you to comprehend immediately without context." He began pulling clothes off the line and folding them neatly. He worked down the line quickly and efficiently, hesitating only when he reached Aryellia's garments. She jumped off the bed and stepped next to him, grabbing them herself before returning to under the covers where she began to change out of sight.

"So, what now?" she asked, twisting under the covers to get the various articles of clothing onto her limbs.

"It is only proper for me to return to my home with news of my Mentor's demise." He placed a hand on the stack of clothing belonging to the woman, letting it linger for a moment before he placed it within her satchel. With his back to the bed, he began to change quickly into the now dry traveling garments from before. Aryellia looked at his scars, less abashed as before, staring hard at each in both wonder and fear.

"And what about me?" she replied, looking away before seeing anything indecent, folding the garment she had borrowed the previous night. "I have nowhere to go."

Seeker stood at the end of the bed, a fully packed satchel in each hand. He shrugged before handing her one of the bags. "I know not. Be assured, however, that I should not leave you here if such is not your desire." He threw on his satchel and adjusted his cloak, looking at her in curiousity.

She stood there holding the bag, thinking hard as to her options. Finally she shrugged and tossed the satchel onto her shoulder. "I'm game." As they moved to walk out of the room, she looked out the window one last time. Like a bolt of lightning, an idea struck her. "Let's make a small detour first."