The Reflection: Part 1
The day before had been anything but expected when the Cloaked One walked in. He had a way about him in that entrance, in his gait that reminded S'jira of Lord Travanix, as if he had lead and dominated others before that day and had no plans of changing.
Something else drew her attention to the stranger. Something in his features was familiar, but she could not place it. In the beginning, she suspected that he followed her into the kitchen to speak with her because she had stared too long. But she would come to learn that this was not the case at all.
In the kitchen, he was too familiar with her. His smiles were dangerous and on the verge of being cruel. Again and again, his face was familiar to her eyes but nuances of tone and uttered words of command derailed her more than once to remind her of Master Gracus. All the while they had been in the inn's kitchen, he did not touch her but in every way he affected her. From worry and fear to a longing to know the one who was before her. None of it made any sense. He was a familiar stranger and a friendly enemy.
Talks turned from needs and desires to peace and pain. All the while, he knew who she was by his obtrusive and too-familiar proximity but S'jira could not be sure. His face was unmarked. His voice and ways were too dark. All to the shadowed underside of a rock that most people never had the intention of turning over to take a look to see what lay beneath. Someone or something had turned that proverbial rock over.
As she was still trying to figure out who he might be, what exactly he wanted from her, he disappeared. Much of what he had said was true. That was not right either. All that he had said was true, but she hadn't come to terms with it yet. At one point, before the Cloaked One had disappeared, his voice had raised. And by the time he was gone, Toby had peeked into the kitchen.
Surely, she must have looked ridiculous and hysterical by the time he found her there, upset and in tears with none in the kitchen to have caused it. The small one had no idea if Toby had seen or heard anything. That any of it had happened had left her a wreck. Talk of weeping alone and a heart full of pain. She knew she hid nothing well, so when pains hit her she simply could not hide or veil such things away -- but how could he possibly know of the weeping?
Fire. Water. Earth. Before he left, he spoke of this. Of happiness and dancing again. No matter how dangerous he had been, no matter the warning in her heart, she could not help but wonder what he could offer that could bring that about again. She had striven for it. Suffered for it. And even brought inadvertent suffering to another because of it all. If it could be stopped, there was a quiet, low level of want to see to it.
The day before had been anything but expected when the Cloaked One walked in. He had a way about him in that entrance, in his gait that reminded S'jira of Lord Travanix, as if he had lead and dominated others before that day and had no plans of changing.
Something else drew her attention to the stranger. Something in his features was familiar, but she could not place it. In the beginning, she suspected that he followed her into the kitchen to speak with her because she had stared too long. But she would come to learn that this was not the case at all.
In the kitchen, he was too familiar with her. His smiles were dangerous and on the verge of being cruel. Again and again, his face was familiar to her eyes but nuances of tone and uttered words of command derailed her more than once to remind her of Master Gracus. All the while they had been in the inn's kitchen, he did not touch her but in every way he affected her. From worry and fear to a longing to know the one who was before her. None of it made any sense. He was a familiar stranger and a friendly enemy.
Talks turned from needs and desires to peace and pain. All the while, he knew who she was by his obtrusive and too-familiar proximity but S'jira could not be sure. His face was unmarked. His voice and ways were too dark. All to the shadowed underside of a rock that most people never had the intention of turning over to take a look to see what lay beneath. Someone or something had turned that proverbial rock over.
As she was still trying to figure out who he might be, what exactly he wanted from her, he disappeared. Much of what he had said was true. That was not right either. All that he had said was true, but she hadn't come to terms with it yet. At one point, before the Cloaked One had disappeared, his voice had raised. And by the time he was gone, Toby had peeked into the kitchen.
Surely, she must have looked ridiculous and hysterical by the time he found her there, upset and in tears with none in the kitchen to have caused it. The small one had no idea if Toby had seen or heard anything. That any of it had happened had left her a wreck. Talk of weeping alone and a heart full of pain. She knew she hid nothing well, so when pains hit her she simply could not hide or veil such things away -- but how could he possibly know of the weeping?
Fire. Water. Earth. Before he left, he spoke of this. Of happiness and dancing again. No matter how dangerous he had been, no matter the warning in her heart, she could not help but wonder what he could offer that could bring that about again. She had striven for it. Suffered for it. And even brought inadvertent suffering to another because of it all. If it could be stopped, there was a quiet, low level of want to see to it.