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I'll be posting my story here as well!  If you're interested in it, please feel free to follow my other account: ManuWrites
Thank you if you take the time to read it!

Previous Chapter:
Next Chapter:

All Chapters HERE.

CHAPTER 36: CORNY

                Relief. Maybe that was the name of the stone anchoring Malia’s chest. No, relief was supposed to be peaceful, the calm after the storm. There was nothing peaceful about the frustration nesting in her lungs, nor about the fear still lingering beneath it.
                There were so many things she could have said, so many points she could have argued, so many questions she could have asked… The white maiden and her dragon had left her feeling wholly inadequate. She didn’t know how to break free from that moment, how to connect the lumbering silence to their next move. She needed to do something, anything, to end the discomfort the two haunting visitors had left in their wake.
                “Someone… someone hand me back the parchment.” Malia had to start somewhere, “We should continue our transcription while the knowledge is still fresh. Those two don’t get to set the pace. Guys?”
                Lyra twitched as if she wanted to oblige, but her attempt lacked resolve. Hedera seized the instant to shatter the frigid disquiet, “Come on, I’ll give you a hand.” She helped Lyra to her feet, “Refreshments, was it? You can teach me about that. Human food is curious to say the least.”
                Aldous followed the demon’s lead, passing the parchment along to Malia, “Here you go, princess.”
                Pushed by the driving flow around her, Kadem too took action. She sat silently at the table, glaring keenly at the small book that contained the original letter. The rest knew she didn’t wish to be disturbed; it would have been redundant for the silver witch to voice it.
                “Boss.” Bayard called out to Gorken. Their leader hadn’t moved since the maiden had commanded him to step aside. Gorken brought a weary hand to his forehead, avoiding glancing at his companions at all cost. Malia was about to speak his name when, as if he could sense it, he stormed out of the room.
                Malia’s languid legs chained down her first impulse. She exhaled, “We should go after him.”
                “I don’t know.” Aldous replied, “I don’t know anymore. He’s our boss. We trust him to lead the way. If he doesn’t want to be followed, if he doesn’t want us near him right now… we have no right to undermine him.” For the first time since her awakening, Malia saw the fissures in Aldous’ behavior. The redhead looked younger than she had ever seen him, despite his drained appearance. His effortless playfulness was too heavy for him to carry, and the empty space of his missing forearm was abruptly evident.
                “We can’t undermine him.” Bayard echoed, “But you can. You’re an outsider, Malia. In a good way. You can trample the chain of command, and he’ll let you. Drag him back here. We can’t allow him to run from us.”
                “That’s a plan I can get behind.” Malia remembered how to smile. Then she remembered she couldn’t walk on her own.
                Aldous noticed, so he moved forward intending to assist her. In his effort to stand up quickly, he put his weight on an arm that was no longer there; Bayard caught him just in time to spare his nose the impact against the floor. Malia could see Aldous’ shoulders shuddering with shame. She could also see the gentle way Bayard supported him, the tender history their interlaced hands told and yet she had never picked up on before.
                “We’re a mess.” She put her arms around her two friends, hugging them tightly. For the first time since her awakening, her limbs felt strong, “But we don’t have to stay a mess, do we? I’ll count on your help to get to the door. After that, I’ll manage on my own. I must.”
                “…We’ll escort you then.” Aldous lifted his head, grateful to have been granted an immediate purpose.
                For all of Malia’s postured confidence, once her companions took her to the entrance she had no clue how to go on. As she clung to the door frame to keep herself erect, she spotted Gorken in the distance, sitting by the shade of one of the myriad trees that encased Kadem’s clearing. She breathed in, the fresh air of the venerable forest a priceless gift for those in need of vigor.
                Her first try at a step forward brought her to her knees. She was glad she had closed the door behind her, or else Aldous and Bayard might have been tempted to aid her. Crawling ended up being a more attainable goal; she could make her way slowly but surely across the dirt. Even so, walking remained her ambition. She clasped at trunks and rocks to stay upright, and every couple of tremulous steps would return her to the ground; it was then than crawling was useful, a respite that allowed her to still advance as she gathered strength and pride to stand up again.
                The stretch of land between herself and Gorken’s back refused to shrink, even though the sweat trickling down the sides of her face confirmed her struggle had been lengthy. By the time her breathing got ragged, she could take a few steps in a row without diving into the soil. Malia was proud of her accomplishment, notwithstanding how mundane it looked from the outside.
                Gorken’s brief look of surprise made the strenuous journey worth it. “Hey. Are you alright?” she asked when she reached his side.
                “No.” he was determined not to meet her eyes.
                “I appreciate the honesty.” She sat next to him, “What’s wrong? With you specifically, I mean. I know things got crazy all of a sudden but… it wouldn’t be the first time. Talk to me.”
                “You saw.” Gorken kept his stare on the grass, “When that woman told me to step aside, I did it. I didn’t hesitate. I couldn’t hesitate.”
                “I get it.” Malia said, “Her will was overpowering. I don’t think I could have refused an order from her either.”
                “You don’t get it.” Gorken sounded angry, or sad, “A while back I told you I didn’t want to find out why I see what I see in my nightmares… What if this is why? What if…” he trailed off, “…Every night I sleep into the horror of murdering people dear to me… I chose to believe it didn’t mean anything, but… Your blood in that dungeon smelled the same as in my nightmares. What if… What if that woman had told me to kill you all?”
                Gorken was right. Malia didn’t get it. Precisely because she knew that, she was desperate to pick the right words, to say what he needed to hear. She wanted her answer to save him. “I can’t relate to your horror… But I can speak of what I do know. What if she had told you to kill us? What if you couldn’t resist her command? Well, then we would have stopped you! Give us a little bit of credit. We wouldn’t just get killed off! You can count on us.”
                It might have been the correct answer, if Gorken had longed to be saved by someone else. Instead, remorse over his own weakness clutched his gut. “It all sounds easy when you say it,” his smile was a farce carved by resentment, “anything is possible when you say it.” He had no right to envy her courage, to begrudge her for the traits he so loved about her. And yet, entangled in his whirlwind of guilt and dishonor, he couldn’t stop himself from saying those words he didn’t mean: “Someone like you would never understand.”
                No sooner had the statement left Gorken’s lips than Malia was back in the horrid dungeon, bleeding out as she was forced to listen to Cain’s pitiful confession. “Don’t you dare…” she couldn’t hold back the tears, “…the same words as him…!” How had she suddenly become so powerless? How could she feel so alone, so isolated, while sitting next to someone? Not just someone, next to Gorken. “What does… what does that even mean?” she sobbed, “How am I supposed to understand if you won’t let me?” If you sever the link beforehand? If you don’t look at ‘me’?
                Malia ached to recover her composure, to stop her excessive outburst. I didn’t come here to break down. The pain wouldn’t let her get a grip of herself. Where was it coming from? Her ribcage? Her innards? It wouldn’t recede. She hid her face between her knees, crumpling inwardly. Stop crying, stop crying, stop crying.
                Gorken felt like the stupidest man who ever lived. The sight of Malia curled up as if she wanted to disappear, weeping in response to his selfish words, dispelled his prideful distress and his self-pity. How low can I sink? An apology would have been an empty amendment. The best thing he could do, then, was to speak the truth; the trite, awkward, undeniable truth.
                “I promised I wouldn’t disregard your feelings ever again,” Gorken began in a low sigh, “and I broke that promise right away. But allow me to say this: For eight long years I kept inside me a delusion of the perfect person I had lost… and when you came back you were nothing like it. You ate much more than I remembered, you were pushy in your pursuit of connection, you got depressed when things didn’t go your way, you were afraid of silly things like ghosts… Reality utterly defeated me; I realized I could never love my own perfect delusion more than I love you. The reason you seem special to me, the reason everything seems to come easily to you in my eyes…is because I love you. But even though I want you to understand everything about me, the same way I want to make all that you are mine, I’m a coward. It’s not that ‘someone like you would never understand’… It’s that I’m scared of you fully understanding me and disliking what I truly am.”
                When Gorken was done talking, only the noises of the forest endured. Even Malia’s distraught cries had gone quiet. He waited in silence, immobile, for what might as well have been another eight years.
                Then, with her face still hidden between her knees, Malia spoke: “That’s got to be the corniest thing I’ve ever heard.”
                Gorken had never been one to blush, but he could feel blood rushing to his face and igniting it. He didn’t know whether that was visible or not, but he was certain his cheeks were about to burst. Malia raised her head and stared at him, her face as red as he felt his was, and she added, “I love corny stuff.”

Description

I'll be posting my story here as well!  If you're interested in it, please feel free to follow my other account: ManuWrites
Thank you if you take the time to read it!

Previous Chapter:
Next Chapter:

All Chapters HERE.

CHAPTER 36: CORNY

                Relief. Maybe that was the name of the stone anchoring Malia’s chest. No, relief was supposed to be peaceful, the calm after the storm. There was nothing peaceful about the frustration nesting in her lungs, nor about the fear still lingering beneath it.
                There were so many things she could have said, so many points she could have argued, so many questions she could have asked… The white maiden and her dragon had left her feeling wholly inadequate. She didn’t know how to break free from that moment, how to connect the lumbering silence to their next move. She needed to do something, anything, to end the discomfort the two haunting visitors had left in their wake.
                “Someone… someone hand me back the parchment.” Malia had to start somewhere, “We should continue our transcription while the knowledge is still fresh. Those two don’t get to set the pace. Guys?”
                Lyra twitched as if she wanted to oblige, but her attempt lacked resolve. Hedera seized the instant to shatter the frigid disquiet, “Come on, I’ll give you a hand.” She helped Lyra to her feet, “Refreshments, was it? You can teach me about that. Human food is curious to say the least.”
                Aldous followed the demon’s lead, passing the parchment along to Malia, “Here you go, princess.”
                Pushed by the driving flow around her, Kadem too took action. She sat silently at the table, glaring keenly at the small book that contained the original letter. The rest knew she didn’t wish to be disturbed; it would have been redundant for the silver witch to voice it.
                “Boss.” Bayard called out to Gorken. Their leader hadn’t moved since the maiden had commanded him to step aside. Gorken brought a weary hand to his forehead, avoiding glancing at his companions at all cost. Malia was about to speak his name when, as if he could sense it, he stormed out of the room.
                Malia’s languid legs chained down her first impulse. She exhaled, “We should go after him.”
                “I don’t know.” Aldous replied, “I don’t know anymore. He’s our boss. We trust him to lead the way. If he doesn’t want to be followed, if he doesn’t want us near him right now… we have no right to undermine him.” For the first time since her awakening, Malia saw the fissures in Aldous’ behavior. The redhead looked younger than she had ever seen him, despite his drained appearance. His effortless playfulness was too heavy for him to carry, and the empty space of his missing forearm was abruptly evident.
                “We can’t undermine him.” Bayard echoed, “But you can. You’re an outsider, Malia. In a good way. You can trample the chain of command, and he’ll let you. Drag him back here. We can’t allow him to run from us.”
                “That’s a plan I can get behind.” Malia remembered how to smile. Then she remembered she couldn’t walk on her own.
                Aldous noticed, so he moved forward intending to assist her. In his effort to stand up quickly, he put his weight on an arm that was no longer there; Bayard caught him just in time to spare his nose the impact against the floor. Malia could see Aldous’ shoulders shuddering with shame. She could also see the gentle way Bayard supported him, the tender history their interlaced hands told and yet she had never picked up on before.
                “We’re a mess.” She put her arms around her two friends, hugging them tightly. For the first time since her awakening, her limbs felt strong, “But we don’t have to stay a mess, do we? I’ll count on your help to get to the door. After that, I’ll manage on my own. I must.”
                “…We’ll escort you then.” Aldous lifted his head, grateful to have been granted an immediate purpose.
                For all of Malia’s postured confidence, once her companions took her to the entrance she had no clue how to go on. As she clung to the door frame to keep herself erect, she spotted Gorken in the distance, sitting by the shade of one of the myriad trees that encased Kadem’s clearing. She breathed in, the fresh air of the venerable forest a priceless gift for those in need of vigor.
                Her first try at a step forward brought her to her knees. She was glad she had closed the door behind her, or else Aldous and Bayard might have been tempted to aid her. Crawling ended up being a more attainable goal; she could make her way slowly but surely across the dirt. Even so, walking remained her ambition. She clasped at trunks and rocks to stay upright, and every couple of tremulous steps would return her to the ground; it was then than crawling was useful, a respite that allowed her to still advance as she gathered strength and pride to stand up again.
                The stretch of land between herself and Gorken’s back refused to shrink, even though the sweat trickling down the sides of her face confirmed her struggle had been lengthy. By the time her breathing got ragged, she could take a few steps in a row without diving into the soil. Malia was proud of her accomplishment, notwithstanding how mundane it looked from the outside.
                Gorken’s brief look of surprise made the strenuous journey worth it. “Hey. Are you alright?” she asked when she reached his side.
                “No.” he was determined not to meet her eyes.
                “I appreciate the honesty.” She sat next to him, “What’s wrong? With you specifically, I mean. I know things got crazy all of a sudden but… it wouldn’t be the first time. Talk to me.”
                “You saw.” Gorken kept his stare on the grass, “When that woman told me to step aside, I did it. I didn’t hesitate. I couldn’t hesitate.”
                “I get it.” Malia said, “Her will was overpowering. I don’t think I could have refused an order from her either.”
                “You don’t get it.” Gorken sounded angry, or sad, “A while back I told you I didn’t want to find out why I see what I see in my nightmares… What if this is why? What if…” he trailed off, “…Every night I sleep into the horror of murdering people dear to me… I chose to believe it didn’t mean anything, but… Your blood in that dungeon smelled the same as in my nightmares. What if… What if that woman had told me to kill you all?”
                Gorken was right. Malia didn’t get it. Precisely because she knew that, she was desperate to pick the right words, to say what he needed to hear. She wanted her answer to save him. “I can’t relate to your horror… But I can speak of what I do know. What if she had told you to kill us? What if you couldn’t resist her command? Well, then we would have stopped you! Give us a little bit of credit. We wouldn’t just get killed off! You can count on us.”
                It might have been the correct answer, if Gorken had longed to be saved by someone else. Instead, remorse over his own weakness clutched his gut. “It all sounds easy when you say it,” his smile was a farce carved by resentment, “anything is possible when you say it.” He had no right to envy her courage, to begrudge her for the traits he so loved about her. And yet, entangled in his whirlwind of guilt and dishonor, he couldn’t stop himself from saying those words he didn’t mean: “Someone like you would never understand.”
                No sooner had the statement left Gorken’s lips than Malia was back in the horrid dungeon, bleeding out as she was forced to listen to Cain’s pitiful confession. “Don’t you dare…” she couldn’t hold back the tears, “…the same words as him…!” How had she suddenly become so powerless? How could she feel so alone, so isolated, while sitting next to someone? Not just someone, next to Gorken. “What does… what does that even mean?” she sobbed, “How am I supposed to understand if you won’t let me?” If you sever the link beforehand? If you don’t look at ‘me’?
                Malia ached to recover her composure, to stop her excessive outburst. I didn’t come here to break down. The pain wouldn’t let her get a grip of herself. Where was it coming from? Her ribcage? Her innards? It wouldn’t recede. She hid her face between her knees, crumpling inwardly. Stop crying, stop crying, stop crying.
                Gorken felt like the stupidest man who ever lived. The sight of Malia curled up as if she wanted to disappear, weeping in response to his selfish words, dispelled his prideful distress and his self-pity. How low can I sink? An apology would have been an empty amendment. The best thing he could do, then, was to speak the truth; the trite, awkward, undeniable truth.
                “I promised I wouldn’t disregard your feelings ever again,” Gorken began in a low sigh, “and I broke that promise right away. But allow me to say this: For eight long years I kept inside me a delusion of the perfect person I had lost… and when you came back you were nothing like it. You ate much more than I remembered, you were pushy in your pursuit of connection, you got depressed when things didn’t go your way, you were afraid of silly things like ghosts… Reality utterly defeated me; I realized I could never love my own perfect delusion more than I love you. The reason you seem special to me, the reason everything seems to come easily to you in my eyes…is because I love you. But even though I want you to understand everything about me, the same way I want to make all that you are mine, I’m a coward. It’s not that ‘someone like you would never understand’… It’s that I’m scared of you fully understanding me and disliking what I truly am.”
                When Gorken was done talking, only the noises of the forest endured. Even Malia’s distraught cries had gone quiet. He waited in silence, immobile, for what might as well have been another eight years.
                Then, with her face still hidden between her knees, Malia spoke: “That’s got to be the corniest thing I’ve ever heard.”
                Gorken had never been one to blush, but he could feel blood rushing to his face and igniting it. He didn’t know whether that was visible or not, but he was certain his cheeks were about to burst. Malia raised her head and stared at him, her face as red as he felt his was, and she added, “I love corny stuff.”