Even though they’d been on the road for a while, the elf’s clothes were inexplicably clean. It must have been magic… It had to be. Insulating one’s wears from the weather’s cataclysmic effects came to Avallac’h almost as easily as breathing. And there were times, when they waded through particularly nasty paths of fire or ice, plunged neck-deep into snow or above canyons where spurts of lava shot up from the iridescent amber below, that he would do her the same. Particularly when the weather wasn’t the only thing that soiled her garbs.
The way Zireael had clung to her tutor, crumpling the regal fabric of his travel wears in a hold that could easily rival iron pincers, brought to mind an old tale weaved to elven offspring in their youth. One that concerned finding way back up to the edge of the abyss by holding on to a spider’s thread.
Before Ciri could look him in the eye, Avallac’h pre-emptively unpinned the brooch of his overcloak and with a swooping motion draped it over his ward’s naked, trembling shoulders. The familiar hum of magic, like veins of silver lined in with the fabric, spread a lukewarm sensation throughout her chilled, frantic form. It was as though her entire body had been plunged into a pool of zeal, bringing forth the nostalgic sensation of a loved one’s embrace. The overcloak, crafted out of mink skin and cotton, felt strangely alive in its own right. As if the animal had passed away, but its warmth somehow prevailed. That piece of garb alone was bound to leave little room for doubt as to why and how Avallac’h mostly always managed to maintain a level-headed mind even when distress ravaged those around him like the plague, consuming the hearts of the ones who hadn’t lived enough to steel it from the outside world. But, contrary to popular belief, even in steel there were nooks and breaches.
Petrichor and timberland’s morning dew enveloped her, the earthy, elven scent that often clung to her tutor. It wafted off his clothes and him when Avallac’h helped himself to a seat beside her and took Zireael into his arms. It must have been for comfort… It had to be.
Only that he didn’t want her to look into his eyes. Eyes where once love dwelled, the bite of cold indifference now remained. Ciri was already in shambles and Avallac’h simply wished not to contribute to her undoing should it dawn on her that said eyes belonged to another.
“I cannot.” There was a strain to his voice, barely noticeable, hiding the ice beneath a false layer of warmth.
But his words were all the truth she needed.
She curled up against him, breath evening out, eyes fluttering closed. A soft sound, too quiet to be anything more than a whimper escaped her throat at his words, a plea almost for him to take them back, revoke them and cast them to the furthest pits of nothingness. Let them fall between the void between worlds, where other unpleasant things dwelled.
She yawned deeply, the weight of the cloak dragging her down, comfortable in Avallac’h’s tender embrace. It was too easy to forget that he was not human, that he saw her as nothing but a Child of the Elder Blood, that mystical Source that had everyone chasing after her. That knowledge was buried deep in the dark recesses of her consciousness where it could bother her no longer. His lack of false platitudes was reassuring in itself. Her trust in him only grew, the little seeds that had been planted from their first meeting growing and flourishing under his care. With no one else to lean on, it was only natural she forge a connection with him. As much as she yearned for him to lie, the truth was what she needed to hear. His calm acceptance bolstered her confidence, letting her dismiss the fears that preyed upon her night and day.
With another little sigh she was out, the lack of sleep finally catching up and dragging her down to rest fitfully. There were her dreams, visions of terror that had her screaming before being doused, like water over a raging fire. Each time she stirred, the beginnings of a nightmare nibbling at the edges of peace, a wave washed over her, soothing her thoughts and allowing her to slip back into peaceful slumber. There was no telling how long she was asleep, surely her body needed as much as it could get, given the abuse it had suffered. The sun was high in the sky and while sleep clung to her eyes for the first time in a long time she felt refreshed and clearheaded.
She was alone, curled in her bed still wrapped up in the soft cloak, breathing in the light musk that filled her with a warmth down to her core. Ciri sat up, still in what could be considered an embarassing state of undress and stretched, yawning widely and stretching her arms to the sky. With some reluctance she stood, still wearing Avallac’h’s cloak around her like a shield. Bare feet made no sound as she searched the small apartment they shared. The door to the bath was unlocked so she let herself in, intending to apologize for the mess she’d made the night before. All such thoughts evaporated at the sight of him casually washing himself, not a care that she intruded.
“Avallac’h,” she managed weakly, eyes roaming almost hungrily over what was displayed before her before pulling herself back, aiming for as casual as she could make herself sound. It came out forced, reedy and she cringed at the inelegant display. “How long was I asleep?”
