Narys's visit wasn't unexpected. Sareva guessed that, if she was still well and able, she'd probably come to try and apologize, which she did. But Sareva had been so relieved when she opened the door, seeing her unhurt, there would be no such thing as she pulled the other woman into an embrace. Had she expected a lecture, probably; was she going to get one, no. Did the girl for some reason want to be scolded, to be told she was wrong and what to do next? Sareva didn't know, but she wasn't going to give that either. Narys wasn't a child. What she was going to give was her ear, someone to work things through with, and what counsel and comfort she could give.
What could she say? The feral beast of a man she walked off with she claimed to be harmless. And Dagramir, the sly knave whose twisted words had bound cruel ropes to the copper haired lass’s heart, she somehow still held some kind of fondness for. The woman had been flirting with danger, literally.
But again, what could she say? Wasn't she doing the same thing?
Always be wary, always protect yourself.
When Narys turned the question to her, what she thought of Aeonid, she did as best she could in their short time that remained to try to let the other woman in on the debate that was ever going on in her mind, a debate that had persisted for some time and never changed from day to day. Yes, she cared for him, and she wanted to be close to him, but he wasn't exactly safe. It had been the very day after he nearly slept with the woman before her that he had come to her own house and, among other things, kissed her. The only reason he had restrained himself with Narys was the fact that she was a taken woman. He clearly felt something for the huntress, and Narys herself confirmed with a chuckle that he had been very impulsive when it came to them and women. To have someone else's input on her mind's debate was refreshing, whatever the input, for or against, because it at least validated the dilemma and added weight that might sometime help to tip the scale one way or another. She'd also said, however, that Aeo was a good man before she had to rush out. This Sareva also knew, but that alone wouldn't settle things.
She wasn't going to be someone's mere bed warmer or a placeholder for if someone else desired came along, or became available. She needed to guard her heart. Yes, honor had stayed him, but she didn't want honor alone to be the reason for his staying.
And so she was once more alone with her thoughts.
Always be wary, always protect yourself.
Could she say that she was safe when at his side? He had told her of the man he had been in the distant past, and while she didn't believe that's who he was now, the voice in the back of her mind told her he could be. Dangerous, slave, killer, beast, conscienceless, the person he had been made to be at one time so long ago.
And yet he put her at such ease. The easy words that passed between them, the banter, the flirting and teasing, the casual back and forth game charmed her. Just sitting and talking with him helped settle her after the occurrence with the raging lovers. His honesty was reassuring, even with his bluntness and occasional lewdness, because she knew he was real, no mask. And when he'd pulled her into his lap, surrounded by his warmth, she'd felt a sense of security.
Perhaps that was what made him so dangerous, that sense of security. For that was what it was, a sense, an illusion, a feeling only. She had turned straight to him when her worries and thoughts were too heavy, so carelessly. The voice of caution still chirped in the back of her mind while she was with him, but it was quieter. She'd even forgotten her scissors, for what little good they might have done. And she hadn't remotely objected when he'd lifted her from the steps and onto him. If he had wanted to, he could have done what he pleased and there would be nothing she could do to stop it.
Yet wasn't the fact that he hadn't proof of at least something? That he hadn't so much as kissed her since she asked him not to while she worked things out for herself? She could not deny the attraction; for his part, he certainly didn't. He was quite forthright with that much, that and more. He was honest about everything, and he had admitted to her something he never had before, not even to this late wife. Perhaps fate had brought her here for just that, and for some kind of healing, or maybe it was that he trusted her so completely in the relatively little time they had known each other and cherished her, or maybe she had said just the right words.
Of this she was sure: she cared for him, and her words that night and every other day had been genuine. She loved being with him and felt comfortable in his presence. She saw the innermost parts of him and longed to embrace them as he would hold her. How odd, one might think, that it was she who wanted to protect him. But she cared for him. She loved the freeness with which they could speak, the silliness and seriousness, the way he would get this goofy grin that would tug at the corners of his goatee and make it go a little crooked when she kissed his cheek, all of it, and the ease of it all.
Always be wary, always protect yourself.
Aeonid. The thoughts chimed out in the counsel room of her mind; around and around they went in consistent circles, dizzying her and threatening to take her footing so she would fall. And when she fell, she knew strong arms would be there to catch her and carry her away to a new, foreign place where reason could not reach them.
But no, she had to remain steady. She had to stand on her own two feet, convince herself to remain level headed and sure of her path. And if she was carried away to a strange, wondrous place, it would be because she would come to its threshold where he was waiting, and she would trust him to carry her through to the other side.
