The shop was silent, empty, and dark when she stepped inside. This was of no concern to her for the hour was late and she was, at heart, a creature of the darkness. Tonight however, it was really rather comforting. After the bright bustle and the hectic merriment of the evening, she needed some peace in which to process all that she had seen and learned.
She had been invited to the wedding party by Seaver, who had extended the invitation from Taala, a woman Calilla had only met once before. That, in itself, was not particularly odd for her. In Khand, all members of the tribe - or tribes, if the bride had come from another - had been expected to attend. Of course, Calilla had never exactly been a guest at such an affair. She had always acted as a servant, covert bodyguard for her master and, in more than one instance, enforcer to ensure that the bride made it to her husband's side without being killed by any dissenters or killing herself in protest.
She pursed her lips in thought as she drifted through the wide hall and into her private rooms. The fire had long since died, leaving a chill in the air. With a small sigh, she retrieved more kindling and set about creating fire in the stone hearth once more.
Seaver, the owner of the White Wolf Tavern, had informed her at the last minute that he was unable to act as her escort as he had thought due to the unexpected illness of the chief server. He would, instead, be tending the bar that eve, pouring drinks for the guests. In a strange place, surrounded by strange people and unknown customs, Calilla had felt more than a little discomforted. Still, she had chosen to stay, to learn what she could through observing the festivities from the shadows of the far corner. There had been eating and drinking, a similarity that had not gone unnoticed by her. She did, however, wonder at the games the guests had then played. Was this normal? Why was this necessary? And why would the bride and groom be distributing gifts for attendance when each guest had brought a gift for the couple in question? Calilla herself had left the party with a lantern; the irony of such an item for a woman who favoured shadow over shine was not lost on her.
More puzzling was the incident involving a woman named Narys. Apparently upset that her lover had failed to attend, Calilla had watched as the silly girl had clouded her mind with alcohol, then drawn a bow and shot at a stuffed moose head attached to the wall. Seaver had required that the woman leave the premises, stating that he could not be seen to be "soft" in front of the staff. How could it possibly be considered harsh to remove someone who had endangered the guests? In Khand, this Narys would have been cut down where she stood for breaking the temporary truce of a wedding party by drawing a weapon alone, never mind actually using it. Such actions could, and had in many cases throughout the centuries, begun blood feuds that had only ended with the destruction of one or both tribes involved. And how could such reckless behaviour be justified by her lack of partner for the eve? It suggested an inability to control herself or her emotions, a weakness of the mind resulting in pointless tantrums. Women like her were the very reason that all females in Khand were considered unable to act of their own volition or think for themselves: without a strong man to guide them, by force if necessary, their petty, childish and selfish natures posed a danger to everyone.
She huffed, then pursed her lips, gently blowing upon the now smoldering kindling as her thoughts drifted to other things she had seen that eve.
Most notable was Taala and Eroforth themselves. Calilla had never before seen a couple so pleased to be together, so very happy to be wed. She had seen love before but never to such a deep and abiding degree. It had been an education. No, more than that, it had been a blessing to witness. Love is weakness, or so she had always been told, but that pair put the lie to the belief. Even at a distance, or perhaps because she barely knew them, she could see the strength they gained from one another, the nigh on indestructibility of what they shared. It was as humbling as it was beautiful to behold and to Calilla, it cast a blindingly harsh light upon the hole within her own heart.
She rose from the hard tile floor once the embers caught the flame proper. Her gaze fell upon the ivory tiara atop the mantle; a gift from Syrioh. She picked it up, carefuly turning it over in her hands. The darkened carvings of women and snakes upon its outer surface seemed to dance in the flickering firelight. Pretty but useless, the gift had still meant much to her, as had the accompanying ivory karambit. The man had made no secret of his intent toward her and in return she had made no secret of her own feelings, or lack thereof. Certainly, he was an attractive man and he treated her with respect, kindness and understanding but still... for now, she felt nothing beyond simple lust when she thought of him. And Seaver, whom Taala had seemed quite intent on getting to spend the night with Calilla, was it any different with him? She cared about him, she had admitted as much to him some days ago, but there was little more to it than that and she did not believe that there ever could be more than friendship, and the occasional tryst, between them.
She breathed a softly hissing sigh, wishing that the relationship between the newlyweds had at least elicited some envy in her. It had not. It had awakened a feeling of yearning instead. She had seen what she had always lacked and she wanted it.
With a sneer for her own desires and a shake of her head, she seated herself in the white wicker chair. Wishing for a deeper connection would never change what she was, who she was, and she would never apologise for any of it. Such things were never meant for her.
