Topic: Two roads converge in a green wood

SylviaNightshade

Date: 2008-05-26 11:08 EST
Well into the late evening hours, sunset was a fading memory of ruddy purple in the sky. Hudson paused on the road almost in sight of the Yearling Brook and crouched, absently picking up a smooth rock from the road and turning it over and over in his hand. If Sylvia was venturing out tonight, she should be along shortly. If too much time passed in the waiting, he would steel his nerve and cross the final distance to the manor. His tenor voice was rich with disgust at himself as he spoke into the empty air. ?Ye great bloody gowk. What dae ye think yer about, in any case??

"No, Willen,? Sylvia started again. ?And part of your duties does not include contradicting me from my doorstep to the gate, does it? I have said no guard and I meant it." She smiled to the young woman who was trying to do her job and gave a pat to her arm. "I will be fine," softening her voice before she turned.

She stepped from the gates just closing for the evening, gave a nod to the guards there, and began the walk into town. A deep breath of the emptiness of the road and the smell of coming night was the first step into easing her mind. But the road did not seem empty as she looked down its length. Someone was there and her steps slowed but little. This close to Yearling Brook, if there was danger, she still had a place to run.

As she neared, the figure became familiar if surprising, and she offered a simple, "Good evening."

Knees protested faintly when Hudson stood from his crouch, tossing the small rock absently off to one side of the road. ?And latha math tae ye, caraid. Ye held back th? guards again?? Rapidly dimming light turned the encounter to shadows and cast an unintentional mask over his expression, but his voice was simply curious as he started to walk beside her.

The curiosity did not fade with the realization it was Hudson. Sylvia looked up at him skeptically, but answered. "I did. I have a few nights when I need to feel rather capable of protecting myself. Whether that is true or not, well, so it is." She walked a few more steps, her eyes moved to the edge of the road and the trees with their brush concealing what might lurk just behind that line of vision. "Did you need something Hudson that you walked all this way?" It was not a question asked lightly.

Rueful smile curving his lips up at the corner, he gave her a sidelong glance and then looked back to the road ahead. ?Truth between us, aye? Nae, there were nothing I needed but th? time tae walk off some restlessness.? He paused, letting quiet footfalls sound louder in the still night air, before he continued. ?Sommat I wanted though, aye, that there be. And I found th? nerve tae be selfish in th? walk up, and lost it all just shy o? th? gates. Sae I be glad tae see ye, wi? guards or no.?

She was rather confused. "Nothing you need, something you wanted, but no longer want? Well," she laughed just the faint echoes of sound that were out of place in the long road vacant but them, "I suppose that I can understand. I walk for that reason, among others." A nudge of her elbow towards him. "I am surprised to see you, but glad as well. Though still concerned at your reasoning, but I will not press for them."

Pretending to stagger from the nudge of her elbow, he recovered into a smoother walk and smiled a bit as he looked up toward the stars. ?Och, well, I dinnae claim tae ha?e much sense in my head, from time tae time. But I didnae say I no longer wanted, just that I?d lost my nerve. But here ye be, and there?s th? wanting taken care o?. ?Twas wishing tae speak wi? ye I was.? His quiet chuckle sounded just as out of place in the night as her laugh had; he shook his head a little. ?And if ye were confused before I would suppose that didnae help much at all.?

Her laughter was richer this time. "No," she shook her head, "I think I can follow that. We are speaking though, so well, you should have your wants satisfied then. Would that all wants were so easily remedied." The last spoken with the same levity, though it dropped her thoughts into maze of matters she had hoped the walk and time in town would keep cast aside.

The stirring of leaves overhead in the gentle breeze were like a flutter of whispers from a distant crowd. Only nature to spy upon them, but they spoke their thoughts just as secretly in whispers of the wind's motion. The silver tone of moonlight was not high enough yet to make the breach of open sky above them, but the stars were making their first sparkles to add to nature's conversation.

"What is it you wanted to talk about? Or perhaps nothing in particular."

?Somewhere between th? here and there, I think.? A distinct thread of humor wound through that ambiguous answer as the leaves turned up to the breeze, as if they struggled to leap into freedom. ?I?d a question for ye, if ye?ll be willing tae answer it. But it be sommat personal, and sae I be afeared tae ask, and I?d nae blame ye for nae answering.? Hudson was watching the mix of grays that defined the road, the tree-trunks, the leaves that would have looked green in the light.

Finally he spoke again, and his voice was soft into the road. ?Ye mentioned th? fearing in th? loving o? yer children th? other night, leannan. Be th? fears, th? worries, less than th? wanting o? them?? He sighed, gesturing with his hands a little as he tried to phrase the question; the effort only partially successful. ?Dae ye e?er regret th? having o? them?

SylviaNightshade

Date: 2008-05-26 11:10 EST
The question, while unexpected, had not hesitated her answer. "Never." Her head shook in a sharp denial. "Not once has there been regret of having my children. There are always fears and worries that something loved so well can be taken away. The beauty of the love is fears cannot tarnish it. Worries cannot damage it." Her eyes left the road to look up at him, though their distance in height was little more than a hand's span. "Neither Cian nor Beata were born at happy times, but their coming was a blessed moment in that darkness. Beata, my blessing, my last gift from him. And a gift she is."

It felt like a hand upon her shoulder, the briefest instant, so that her own hand went to reach for it, but found nothing but the cloth of her tunic and vest. She wrapped her arms about her. "I wonder at that comment lingering so in your mind. Is it a painful thing to speak of -- the children?" She worried at her own question, knowing of the hardship he and Moira had.

?Nae? nae exactly painful. Sharp, sometimes, though, th? wishing?.? He trailed off, finding words suddenly inadequate. Silence was a heavy blanket broken only by the rustling whisper of leaves and quiet footsteps until he managed to speak again. ?I wonder if we?d had bairns, and I?d been left wi? them, I would ha?e managed sae well as my Da did, as ye dae. If I would ha?e regretted, or resented th? hardship, or if th? loving o? them would be enow.?

It was an honest worry. She could not deny him that self doubt when she had her own in other matters. The weight of that statement clung about them like the press of the deep sea. She kept her silence and only broke it when the urging of a night bird broke that silence. "I cannot answer to that question, Hudson, only you can, but I can perhaps guide you to finding the answer. Your father managed well because of family. I manage because of family. Do you resent Moira for being ill?" It was a cruel question, but one that might help him find an answer to some of his questions.

A wince followed her question, sharp as a knife to the center. He answered reluctantly. ?Aye, occasionally, though I kent well enow ?twas nae her doing nor wish. And myself, tae, for nae being able tae keep her safe and well. Th? physickers that couldnae heal her, and th? priest that couldnae gi?e her a miracle. There was a lot o? resenting I did, caraid.? Another call of the night bird was followed by a sudden flurry of wings across the road ahead of them, as they drew too close.

The nod was slow, she knew a touch of that emotion, and debated whether to share the reasonings. But not yet, there was something else to ask. "Was there something of Moira's you have kept? Perhaps something she favored?"

Black eyes were hidden and revealed in the patches of shadow that crossed the road as the moon crept up to begin adding light to the sky. ?Aye. Th? most o? what she and I had be still in Scotland, in our house there, but I couldnae leave everything o? hers behind when I set tae th? travelling.? He reached into his sporran, finally coming out with a rather worn length of silk ribbon, embroidered in elaborate patterns of vines and flowers. In the odd light its color was indeterminate. ?From her favorite dress, ye see.?

"Do you resent it?" she asked swift upon the revealing. Its presence in his hand answered much to her mind and her own worries. It was in this time she would set aside those confusions and try to help her friend in what fumbling way she could.

That gathered her a rather surprised look before he looked down at the bit of ribbon, rubbing his thumb over the embroidery for a moment. ?Th? ribbon? Nae ? ?tis but a bit o? cloth, leannan, nae matter how much she care for th? dress. How could I resent that?? He gave her another sidelong and somewhat puzzled glance, as he tried to guess the direction of her questions.

"Then why would you think to resent something of her. Something alive born out of your love for each other? This is but a scrap of cloth - a thing without ability to grow, live, endure and love in return." She sighed and looked back to the road. "I find it a hard thing to imagine you ever resenting having a child. I think there is something else that troubles you, but you cannot find its root, so you think it is possibilities lost and the outcomes you must never face."

Her hands moved from opposite arms, settling thumbs upon the belt at her hips. "I resent Kieran for leading that foray into enemy territory. I have regretted that I sent Ewan to the monastery. I resented Ewan for killing Kieran. Never have I resented Beata, born mere hours before her father died and who kept me from his side in his time of need. She is a gift." A truth repeated never wasted.

Violet eyes shadowed by the darkness cast up to him once again. "So what is it that really troubles you, caraid? What is the wishing that causes the restlessness? If it is truly thoughts on things that did not happen, then I urge you to cast those thoughts aside. From what I know of you, the glimpses of your honesty, loyalty, and determination, you should not worry to hardships not faced. You will win out over them."

SylviaNightshade

Date: 2008-05-26 11:11 EST
After a moment he coiled the ribbon back up carefully and replaced it in his sporran, letting the silence of the road serve as an answer while he thought over her words. As they passed a half-broken remnant of stone wall by the roadside, he hesitated and then turned in that direction. Without looking to see if she had followed, he took a seat and let his scarred hands curl around the rough edges of stone.

?I didnae ken it were Ewan that had th? killing o? yer husband ? Kieran.? His voice was mild as he finally looked up to find her face, pale in the darkness. ?Ye ask what troubles me, mo bran, and I tell ye in honesty that I dinnae ken. Everything and nothing, as if I be caught between th? here and there. One day I wake up, and venture tae th? docks and th? Mothan, and I think that everything be right wi? my world, if a wee empty. Th? next I cannae but linger on what be left, and what might ha?e been ? and it aches me, caraid.?

A sigh sifted through the night, mingled with the whisper of the leaves to vanish. ?I told ye I ha?e my black humors, did I nae? Dae ye wish tae ken th? whole honesty o? th? wishing that causes th? restlessness, caraid, if I tell ye that it will be naught but more trouble tae ye?? The stone was cool, and the roughness bit into his palms while the words hung in the air.

She had followed him, but kept to her standing. The feeling of motion, or the ability to move, more at the ready when she stood. A concerned and confused furrow drew together her brows, faint in the feeling though likely barely noticed in the shadows. The caught between here and there, to that she gave a nod, the understanding one of many levels and in honest depth. Her own here and there was physical as well as in her mind. But she dare not linger on what might have been. There were too many of those moments in her life and it was a trap she would not enter.

So, when he asked if she wanted the whole honesty and hinted at the troubles, her only reply in the earnest wish of helping him was, "If it will in some way aid you to the speaking of it, then I would want to help you. What troubles come to me are of my perception only, think on your own needs. Walks have not satisfied their hunger inside you, so speak them and see if the voicing will give you better clarity."

?Ye be generous, leannan, and I hope ye dinnae regret it.? Cut by the shadows, his expression was hard and almost remote as he looked at her. ?I wish for more than I can ha?e, ye see, and well I ken it. I gave up th? wishing that Moira hadnae passed, saen there be naught that can change it. I turned tae life here when it came tae me, and now I ha?e a house and my bonny boat. And th? boat be nae substitute for a love, and th? house be empty in th? nights.?

A raucous cry from the night bird jolted through the woods and broke through his words. A pause before Hudson freed one hand to rake it back through his hair and continued. ?And at first th? wish were just for company, and th? thought in my head was o? a bit o? bonny blonde hair and a fine fragile delicacy. And now when I ha?e that wish I think on raven-black hair that shows wi? gold and blue in th? firelight, and a strength harder than steel and th? gentleness tae nae let th? steel cut but for healing.? His breath in was harsh before he spoke again.

?And well I ken that ye be still wishing for yer Kieran, that ye ha?e lands and responsibilities. That ye dinnae wish what I dae, and may ne?er. I willnae press ye, I tell myself, and then I get lost in th? wishing again. And sae I?m thinking ?tis best perhaps if I dinnae come sae close any more.? The last sentence was spoken in a flat voice that reflected the difficulty of that conclusion.

"I see." It was a simple statement, her arms folded, and she gave him a soft smile. "Hudson," she forced ease into her voice, "so at this time your thoughts turn to me. Some months before they turned to another. In time, you will find the one you are meant to have, be she blond and delicate or dark and steely, or whatever combination. The road will keep turning until you find home." The twist to her stomach ignored. If such contemplations bothered him, she would not make it harder by confessing her own confusions on their relationship. His assumptions were not contradicted though it took the clenching of her jaw to not do so. Nor did she remind him of a conversation not long ago when their roles were reversed and he stated that mendings could be beginnings when she felt time apart would do them best. No, to all of this she remained silent, and only spoke in most simple words. "Do what is best for you."

SylviaNightshade

Date: 2008-05-26 11:13 EST
?Chriosd, Sylvia!? The words torn forth as he stood, his hands clenching to fists and then relaxing with conscious effort. The Scots burr came out ever more strongly in his voice. ?Some months before my thoughts turned tae a phantom in th? image o? my dead wife, wi? nae face at all but a longing for what was lost. Ye be flesh and blood, here and close, and I want th? road tae bring us taegether for a while, mayhap tae a home ? and I ken that ye dinnae be ready tae tread that path yet.?

Again a sigh whispered into the night breeze and vanished before he spoke softly again. ?Ye say dae what be best for me, and I tell ye that I?d rather gi?e ye up for yer happiness than try tae hold ye fast when ye ha?e nae wish o? th? same. I want tae walk wi? ye, an speak wi? ye, and be yer friend ? and I want more than that, aye, I dae. But I dinnae want it more than I want ye tae be comfortable, and I dinnae think that if I stay sae much in yer company I?ll be able tae keep tae just th? level o? friends.?

His outburst drove her back a step, her hand upon the hilt of her dagger and the curve of a fighting stance out of instinct alone. It was a rudimentary and passing thought that she was glad to still have that reflex, though its timing was a little poor. When he relaxed, so did she. Her head cast back, lifting her face to the trees and the speckled revealing of a dark sky beyond them. Her voice soft but carried, though she did not lower her gaze. "Do not speak my wishes for me, when you do not know them."

A breath held and released and then another. Like a tired willow tree, she let herself face him again. "I wish I knew what I felt for you was true, Hudson. I fear it for your sake. I have not cared for another since Kieran as well as I care for you. I think of you often, not just lonely nights, but times when the boys are laughing and playing with their boats. I see my husband in their faces, but it is you I think of being there to share their laughter. Why is that?" The question was one she asked herself and had no intention of him being able to answer. So, she went on with a mild chop of her hand as if to cast that last thought into some forgotten drawer. "Things are too complicated. The best I could offer you is not what you deserve. You deserve a wife, a home, and a woman waiting with your meal ready. Not the life of consort to a baroness who spends more than half her time in a land separate from where you've built your home. I won't torture you that way for my own unruly and imperfect desires. That is why you must do what is best for you. My happiness comes in the form of three little children and the hope they grow up to be the best of themselves."

She had to turn from him. She had to turn because to seek a comfort was to undo all they had spoken. Her arms folded about her once more and she examined the trees in their solitary standing: alone, tall, and grand.

Barely louder than a breath, his words. ?Ah, mo croidhe, mo bran allaidh.? He could no more have remained in place when she turned away than he could have cut off his own head. Only two long steps to cover the distance between them, where she stood so proud and lonely with her arms wrapped around herself. His hands lifted to rest on her shoulders as he stood directly behind her.
?Dinnae speak my wishes for me, when ye dinnae ken them. Aye, I?ll say it tae ye who just said it tae me. Dae ye think ?tis th? image o? a meek wisp wi? a meal waiting I think o?, when I think on ye? Ye are th? Baroness o? Yransea; ?tis a part o? ye, though nae th? whole, and I?d nae more think ye could give that up than yer bairns or yer right arm.?

With their confessions made, he could relax enough for some humor to creep back into his voice. ?If it be just a matter o? difficulties o? place and job ? well, those be wee things wi? solutions. There be fish in th? sea o? Yransea, I ken that well enow in any case. Tae gain th? chance o? sommat great, well ? ye ha?e tae take a great risk.? His tones softened, then. ?It be a risk I?m willing tae take, if ye?ll be willing tae take it wi? me. Tae see what might be.?

Her eyes closed at the touch to her shoulders. Frightened, trembling, her hands reached to rest on top of his. The difference was felt, not the same hands of so many years, but most surprisingly, that difference was welcomed and did not cause pain as she feared it would. The slightest step back so she might close the distance between them, her hands tugging on his to draw his arms around her. It was a moment stolen. Thief that she was, inside condemning herself for giving in to a longed for touch.

She heard his humor and the faint touch of a smile, like moonlight glowing through a cloud, graced her lips. "They are not wee things. Here in the land of possibilities none would think trouble in the pairing of you and I. In Yransea, a foreign born noble taking on the consort of another foreign born noble is quite the trouble indeed." She rested her head back against him. "The road will not be an easy one, and I cannot promise it will lead us to home."

Arms around her on the still night road, he bent his head down next to hers when she rested against him. The difference of their heights was small enough, the handspan of inches, that it was a comfortable fit. He closed his eyes, inhaled the scent of her hair, and fixed the moment in his memory before he spoke again; strange mixture of humor and utter seriousness. ?Well, I ne?er ha?e walked th? easiest path tae anything worth th? getting. I?ll take th? chance, mo croidhe.?

"No," she smiled, a faint laugh, "no you haven't have you, slayer of a deer that near slayed you." She looked at their place in the road, imagined what it must look like from an outside perspective. What did the nightbirds think of them standing there? She could not imagine. "Still restless? For even if you are or not, we cannot just stand here until the dawn comes. One way or the other, the feet must move eventually." Whether it was the physical road or the metaphorical one, she did not clarify, and most likely it was both.

His laugh was low and quiet, and he held her a moment longer while he answered. ?Nae, I dae suppose ye be right there. But I?m nae restless any longer, and I?ll walk wi? ye whichever direction ye wish tae gae.? Silent promise in that, though his gesture indicated the path towards the city or back to Yearling Brook as he finally and somewhat reluctantly released her.