The Errant Thoughts
February advances into Mars and you can make out the faintest beginning of thaw, the increase of hotter, warmer temperatures. In the two weeks that pass after Sara’s wake-up from her coma, I begin to feel the strain of differing loyalties.
Keeping secrets from Hermann, who is my father in all but blood, is hard. The ultimatum that Tam Linn gave me, what we did to save Sara Eksjö- which I haven’t told Greyscale about… The Flight, Verde has repeatedly told me in these two weeks, are almost liberal in their traditions and views on love and sex, a neccessary trait for a race with incredible long lives and slow birthrates, but they view the sharing of blood to that of a human, an ape, as a serious breach, a taboo.
Tam Linn has confined himself into an apartment for these two weeks, not leaving except to take meals. I can’t say if this a good development or a bad one. He interrogated, or perhaps interviewed Esaia Eldridge, but for what? I wonder if he knows that his movements are followed, that in a town like Fallowfell, he is a rarity?
I consider these things, sitting on a chair outside Sara’s bedroom. Why then, might you wonder, do I sit on a chair outside Sara’s bedroom? Verde has a name for it. He calls it a moment-22. If I get up from this chair and leave her house, the buzzing will start. Oh, it has lessened in strength, but it still remains quite painful. But sitting here, so close to her, Sara can hear my thoughts. That’s awkward. Really awkward. More awkward than having to come up with a reason for why I and her have spent so much time together in these last two weeks. You want to know what fictive excuse we employed? We’re a couple. You hear that? Yes, what you’re hearing is the sound of vomit.
/You could just kill her./ I shake my head, ignoring Verde’s joke. Or what better be a joke, seen in the light of the effort spent on keeping her alive. /I merely supply a reason for you to get out of this situation./ Could you supply one that doesn’t entail murder?
/Perhaps if I make her uncomfortable enough…/ She will what? Verde doesn’t answer me. Another surprise of having used my blood in the tincture that healed Sara is that she can ‘feel’ Verde. She can’t read his thoughts- in her words, he is too great of a presence- but she can feel his nature. I don’t know what freaks her out worst, being told about supernaturals, the events behind the Bonfire Ball, being able to read my thoughts or sensing Verde.
Maybe I should go in there… and I don’t know, comfort her or something./ Sorry Rune, but you are one of the least empathic individuals I know of. Go inside that room and you will set her off. What Sara Eksjö needs now is time, time to get used to her new reality./
“Rune?” I open my eyes. Where…? Right, I fell asleep, sitting outside Sara’s bedroom. Sara’s brown eyes flashes with outrage. Why is she mad? It’s not as if I am guarding her or something. “Were you sleeping?” “Ehrm, yes?” She purses her lips, an action that doesn’t pass me by. “Come on in”, she gestures, and I follow her inside.
I have been inside the rooms of two, three girls if you count Elena’s. But whereas Elena has a room of pinks, Nevena color-scheme favouring darker tones, Sara has a room of pastels.
The room is large, something like maybe eighteen square-metres, with a large window on the left wall, an ornate bed wrought of iron next to the right wall with a table on the north side of the room. The room itself is clean, uncluttered.
Sara seats herself behind the chair that is in front of the table. She effectively forces me to stand, as there is nothing to sit on. No couch, no other chairs and I can’t sit on her bed, can I?
I center myself, waiting for her to begin to speak. This is not the first time, nor the last time she has played one of her little games of dominance. There is a pattern to them; she leverages a location in a way to give her control, then she says something unexpected, hoping for a reaction.
“Is there a way… a way to be free of magic? Of… what I can hear?”
The raw desperation of her questions hit me hard and I blanche; this is what I asked Hermann and Greyscale after I survived the barrowman’s poisoning. And there is no way. I remain silent.
“So there is no way”, she mutters. When a person can read your mind, the conversation has a tendency to flow, I think to myself, hoping to make her smiles. Sara smiles. Success! She smiles even wider.
“About this Tam Linn….?” She trails off as his name brings back my memories of that glade. Which in turn triggers memories about the Hangar, our attempt to train, my desire to gain more control how and how she ended up in the coma. “You!” She screams.
“This is all your fault!” “Sara, I-” “Get out!” She launches a pillow from the bed, a pencil and a notebook at me. “Can you just let me explain-“, I start. “Nononon, out!” She roars, clutching a letter-opener.
I slink out of the room and take my old seat./This is why I told you to tell her the truth from the beginning./ There was no time!/ Rune… that is the worst excuse I have heard in my short life./
Excuse or not, it’s the truth.Dammit, and I thought things were going well there./ Things were going well, until your memories betrayed you. I suggest you keep a tighter rein on your thoughts in the future. Do you really want Sara Eksjö out of all people to know your thoughts?/
I sigh. Square one, back to square one.