Alphonse waited as long as she could, hoping Delyth would fall asleep before she started to cry in earnest, using her blankets to muffle the sound.
⥣ ⥣ ⥣
* * *
Waking up alone was not a new sensation, though it was an uncomfortable one. The tent was empty, Delyth’s sleeping pallet rolled neatly against the canvas wall. Who knew how long she’d been sleeping alone? Had Delyth left in the middle of the night, disgusted with Alphonse? Was she, even now, regretting that Enyo had been tied to the healer?
Sitting up, Alphonse looked around. Even Delyth’s bag was packed. The warrior was ready to leave. The space between Alphonse and Delyth’s sleeping place seemed to stretch impossibly, a few scant feet turning into miles. It might as well have been the ocean, Alphonse floating alone amidst the wreck she’d made.
She used to like solitary mornings.
It gave her time to lay out her clothes, pressing any wrinkles from her skirt or blouse. Time to braid her thick hair and wash her face. To pin her veil in place.
Now, as she stared down at the sheer veil, she felt bile rising up in her throat. The veil for Mother Agathi represented a clear, pure soul. Disinterested with vanity or flirtation, only focused on walking the righteous and true path. To help others, to bring kindness and consideration into every act, every word.
Enyo had tainted that, had made Alphonse brutal, cruel, violent, self-absorbed. She didn’t deserve to wear the veil. She didn’t reflect it’s representations anymore.
Hastily, she folded it up and placed it at the bottom of her pack, then rolled up her bedroll and stowed it.
Dressed and ready, the only thing that was left was facing the group. Alphonse ducked under the tent flaps and blinked in the morning light, squaring her shoulders. Outside, the sun had not yet risen above the mountain tops, though the sky had paled to a tumultuous grey. It was clear for once; all the world looked new and quiet in that hush of early morning.
Everything but the tents had been packed for travel, and Delyth was awake, perched nearby on a boulder, face craggy, and wings held tightly against her back. It seemed clear she would have nothing to do with Alphonse anymore.
And that was fair.
Alphonse had taken her Goddess away without a word.
✶
Etienne had never been good at understanding those around him, but as he stepped from his tent that morning, the tension in camp was apparent even to him. Alphonse was obviously dejected and Delyth cold and distant. He found himself missing earlier weeks, cheerful mornings and get-to-know-you-games.
With a sigh, Etienne made his way to Alphonse while Delyth busied herself with their tent. Nearby, Tristan put away his own things, humming as he worked as though he was completely unaware of the mood around him.
“How did you sleep?” he asked Alphonse, already expecting a poor answer. There were dark rings under her eyes, her face pale. Still, he didn’t know what else to say. There didn’t seem to be a short and easy way to find out how she was coping with Enyo’s destruction and the return of their companions.
“It was a little chilly,” she said and paused, seemingly uncertain. “I remember… What I did yesterday.”
“What Enyo did,” Etienne said. “Enyo started the fire.”
Still, he searched Alphonse’s eyes discontentedly. Was this some sign of greater merger between Alphonse and Enyo? Would Alphonse lose herself?
He shuddered. That would be unbearable to watch, to lose his oldest friend in bits and pieces. It could have already started.
Etienne blinked. Alphonse wasn’t wearing her veil. She hadn’t worn it before starting the fire either, and he had thought she was herself then.
“Where’s your veil, Alphonse?” The scholar’s voice was laced with something like dread.
“In my bag.” She lifted it in example, her amber eyes steady on his face. “I—I am not worthy of wearing it anymore. I don’t live up to what it represents. I’d be a liar to walk around with it on.” Alphonse dropped his gaze quickly, ashamed.
Etienne understood what Alphonse’s veil meant to her, that it was a symbol of both her faith and the purity of her character. If she wasn’t wearing it, then she felt that some part of her was tainted. She wasn’t a pure soul anymore.
And it was all because he had summoned a monster to live in her heart.
He opened his mouth to argue, to tell her that no matter Enyo’s darkness, her soul was still her own. She was still just as good and pure and kind.
Only, Tristan interrupted him before he could form the words, coming up behind Alphonse and dropping an arm carelessly around her shoulders. He made a show of cocking his head and inspecting her appearance.
“I think you look better without it, personally. Dusty old thing made you look like a nun.” He turned slightly to look behind him. “Don’t you think so, Delyth? Her hair is prettier without her veil.”
Tristan grinned wickedly at the priestess, but she simply glared at him. “We need to get moving.”
He shrugged and turned back around. “She agrees with me. I can feel it.”
༄
“Delyth?” Alphonse slithered out from Tristan’s arm, and Delyth tried to pretend that she had not been watching, busying herself with straightening the already neatly packed tent as the healer came towards her.
Delyth took a deep breath and turned to look at Alphonse. She looked so small, so worn out, like the weight of this couldn’t possibly be born by those shoulders. And Delyth wanted to help her. Still, after everything.
How could you trust someone and then leave them?
“Yes, Alphonse?” she said finally. It wasn’t particularly cold, but she didn’t show any emotion either.
The girl teared up almost immediately, staring at Delyth for a heavy moment, opening her mouth several times to speak. That hesitation, that moment with Alphonse’s eyes turned towards hers, felt a bit like something hopeful.
And then it was gone.
“How is your wing?” the healer asked.
Delyth adjusted the pack on her shoulder and turned back towards the road ahead. “It's fine,” she said. “Let’s get a move on.”
Looking dejected, Alphonse nodded and followed along in Delyth’s wake. Tristan and Etienne brought up the rear. Birds sang off in the distance, but no one spoke for a while. Delyth kept her eyes ahead, to the horizon, to the curves of the mountains, and was startled to find them familiar. They were just north of Glynfford, of home. She must have passed within a handful of miles of it during her desperate flight to find Alphonse.
The pang of homesickness Delyth felt for the place was visceral, for all that it had never been a perfect fit for her. It was at least familiar. If she was back home, she would have either been up at dawn to train or guard the valley with her patrolmate, Nerys.
She wouldn’t be so hurt, so raw from the distrust of a little Ingolan healer.
Alphonse paused as they came to the start of the fire damage. She turned to look at the blackened trunks, ash-covered ground. She stepped closer, hands hovering at her side, fingers reaching out…
Slowly, little green shoots popped up from the earth. Alphonse walked along the side of the road, keeping her hands level as she went. New growth trailed in her wake.
Delyth tensed. Enyo was back. And so quickly after the violence of the previous day. Tristan didn’t seem to share any of the dread filling her breast, instead trotting up to walk beside the Goddess. “Beautiful as always, Enyo,” he purred.
Eyes mixed with amber and flame drifted to Tristan before she smiled brilliantly up at him. She reached to stroke his cheek with clear affection before something rippled through her, and Enyo slapped Tristan hard. Hard enough to make his head rock back.
“Beste kran ja’alt. Beste ca’at wyt Crael u Enyo,” she whispered back before returning to her ‘gardening.’ So Tristan was out of favor. For running.
For a long moment, Tristan held that position, head flung back and teeth bared. His eyes were wide
, his nostrils flared, but just as it seemed he would lash out in some fashion, he rubbed his sore cheek and gave Delyth a lopsided smile. “Feisty, isn’t she? Is she like that at night in your tent too?”
Delyth’s hand lowered from Calamity’s hilt once his overt display of anger receded, yet his comment was enough to make her jaw clench. Even more frustrating, Tristan seemed to enjoy it.
❀
Enyo trailed around the sides of the road as far as the destruction was evident, hands held aloft. New life arising at her summons.
When they had walked out of the blackened forest and once more into healthy growth, she seemed happy enough to amble along without complaint. It was unclear when Alphonse rejoined them, but by dinner time, she was shuffling around the firepit and cooking.
It was with some trepidation that she offered herbal tea to ease Tristan’s jaw. She knew Enyo could pack a wallop, and even if she didn’t like Tristan much, it was the least she could do…
Still, she wondered why Enyo had been so angry with him. Before, he was her favorite pet, but by that reprimand, Alphonse had to assume that was no longer true.
“Do you know what she said?” Alphonse asked Tristan quietly, her back turned to Etienne and Delyth, who were both in various stages of unpacking their tents.
“I don’t have the slightest clue. It sounded nasty, though, didn’t it?”
Feeling slightly crestfallen, Alphonse nodded in agreement. She had just thought, being devoted to Enyo, he would know the old language.
Of course, Delyth knew the language, but…
Alphonse glanced at the warrior and then away.
She couldn’t ask the priestess.
“Well… I hope that doesn’t mean she’ll start targeting you the way she does Etienne. Her dissatisfaction can be quite painful to withstand.”
Tristan snorted. “I doubt it. Etienne is too tempting a victim.”
He looked over Alphonse’s shoulder to where the other two were almost finished setting up camp. “Hey look, I think your little mouse is starting to get sweet on me. She’s even worried about me.”
“What? No—I was only asking—” Alphonse sputtered, immediately horrified. There was no chance she was growing ‘sweet’ on Tristan, and the thought that Etienne or Delyth might think so was embarrassing.
“Leave her alone,” the warrior said. Alphonse cast her a grateful look, but Delyth was already turning away. No longer the healer’s friend or protector. Just doing her duty to Enyo, keeping Tristan from harassing her too much. Alphonse’s heart faltered.
✶
Dinner was uninspired but warm and filling. Enyo hadn’t gone hunting, and no one wanted to slow their progress to do so. Thankfully the rations Etienne had gotten in that mountainside settlement were still holding them over. Dried noodle soup with a few spring onions and carrots found on the side of the road.
Etienne watched Alphonse shovel down her food and head immediately to her tent. Delyth watched her too, but just when he expected the warrior to follow her, she hunched her shoulders and turned back to her near-empty bowl.
No one spoke.
The scholar sighed. This wasn’t going to get any better if it continued in this way, and perhaps that was for the best. Alphonse didn’t need to be worrying about Delyth’s feelings when it came time to bind Enyo in the temple.
Then again, if he were to be honest, he’d have to admit she would worry anyway. That was just Alphonse. And the journey would be hard enough without the added tension between them.
“I don’t know much about people,” he told Delyth in hushed tones, “but I know Alphonse. If you want this to get fixed, you’re going to have to let her know. Otherwise, she’ll just assume you want nothing to do with her.”
For a second, he could see past Delyth’s perpetual mask. She turned to him, growling in frustration. “But that’s— I—you’re the ones that left.”
Tristan was looking between them with interest, his face unreadable. “Exactly. She left us. Let her stew in it.”
Etienne shot him a frustrated look. “No one asked you. And yeah, we did. Obviously, it wasn’t the best choice, but if you think Alphonse is worth fixing your friendship, then that’s what you have to do.”
He turned back to his bowl as if he didn’t care what the others did, his temper up. For a long moment, Delyth didn’t move either, but when he looked again, she was staring towards the tent she shared with Alphonse. A second later, she placed her bowl down and moved towards it.
“Really? She ought to come to you to fix it, not the other way around,” Tristan said, but Delyth ignored him and slipped inside.
❀
True to her plan, Alphonse was wrapped in her blankets, eyes firmly shut, back to the entrance of the tent. She would make this as easy as possible for Delyth. Even if she was listening on tenterhooks as the other woman entered, the earth beneath her feet crunching as she moved.
Was she lying down with her back to Alphonse as well?
The healer’s heart stammered at the thought.
Schooling herself to breathe slowly, calmly, as if asleep, Alphonse strained to hear more. Was Delyth’s breathing fast and angry? Unlikely. The priestess was disciplined beyond reason. Perhaps from a life of people fearing her intense and different appearance, being a Cabot and all. Or did her breath hitch with hurt or sorrow? Surely if that was the case, Alphonse should comfort her?
But Delyth didn’t want Alphonse to comfort her.
Was it possible for Alphonse to release Enyo on purpose? To show Delyth that her Goddess was alive and well?
A bundle of emotions in her chest tightened at that. Yes. It purred. Release Enyo. She’ll make the priestess happy.
“I know you’re not asleep,” Delyth said finally, her voice quiet.
Stiffening, Alphonse at least had the wherewithal to feel a touch embarrassed when caught pretending to be asleep. Like a child, whose parents had looked in for the night only to be found reading under the covers with a mage light.
She swallowed and spoke into the darkness. “I didn’t want to—to make you feel as though you had to speak to me.”
Because Delyth seemed tired of the apologies and uninterested in conversation. And all Alphonse wanted to do was apologize over and over again and beg for forgiveness. Slowly, she peered over her shoulder at the warrior. Delyth was sitting on her own pallet, scabbard and boots discarded, tossing the wolf furs aside. She was looking right at Alphonse, and hastily, the healer sat up. “Delyth?”
༄
Delyth struggled for the right thing to say. She felt like she was caught in a storm, a tumult of anger and guilt and simple loneliness. Should she just come out and ask Alphonse why she had left her behind?
The idea made her feel raw inside like she’d been cut open and turned inside out so that all of the writhing, dark bits she didn’t show were on full display.
She swallowed and delayed. “You think too much.” This, of course, wasn’t helpful. She had come in here to talk. She had to say something or give up, defeated by her own fear.
And she was afraid. She could feel it in the feather-pulse of her blood, but she couldn’t say what exactly it was that scared her. Delyth swallowed again. “I don’t like this,” she said, gesturing between them. “How things have been.”
A shuddering sigh whooshed out of Alphonse. She leaned forward, not a hint of embers or fire in those amber eyes. They were purely mournful.
“I hate this. I hate that I hurt you. That I bit you and fought you when you were saving my body. Saving me. I am so, so deeply sorry, Delyth. I know you are a warrior and accustomed to pain and— and you’re so very brave but… That I hurt you.” Her hand reached out, halfway to the halfbreed. Imploring. “I feel sick, knowing that I… I have such terrible darkness within me. Delyth, Please. What can I do to repair this? I cherish our friendship—I mean… I did.”
“What?” Delyth said, half-uncomprehending. Frustration built up in her chest and colored her voice. “That’s
what you think? Look!”
She slid closer and shoved her arm forward for inspection. After healing, the bite was barely discernible against her pale skin, already crisscrossed with scars healed by less skillful practitioners of the art.
“It's gone. Erased,” she said gruffly. “Besides, Enyo did that, not you. You— you just don’t get it, do you?” Immediately, she regretted the words when Alphonse winced.
“I…” Alphonse fumbled, voice trembling slightly. “I know you’re sworn to her and that she is your Goddess. I’m sorry, Delyth. I just vanished with her. Enyo is precious to you, and I stole her away… I just— I wanted to keep everyone safe.”
Delyth just looked at Alphonse, stunned. She thought that Delyth was hurt because she’d taken Enyo?
“I—that’s the reason you thought I—”
Guilt hit harder than Enyo did.
Maybe that should have been the reason for Delyth’s hurt. Maybe she should have been worried about failing in her duties to the Goddess that she had served all her life. The priestess still wanted to do her duty, but not for Enyo.
The realization came with its own self-doubt, but for the moment, it seemed so important that Alphonse understood her. It was compulsory, a wrenching pull.
“You left me behind.” Delyth’s voice was hoarse and breaking. “Did you not trust me to stand by you? I thought— You said we were friends.”
“I— Of course, I want to be your friend. I didn’t think you wanted to be friends with me anymore— That’s beside the point!” the healer whispered emphatically. “I left because—because… I thought, alone, with Etienne’s magic…I might avoid so much… destruction.”
Delyth growled and rubbed her face with her hands. “That doesn’t even make sense!” She kept her voice to a whisper, but just barely.
What, in everything that they had experienced so far, convinced Alphonse that Etienne alone would be less destructive than having her along too? Enyo loved targeting Etienne. She made his life hell and would no doubt seriously hurt him if given the chance. “I am here to help you!” she said, trying to get Alphonse to understand. “But I can’t if you won’t let me. I know I haven’t known you as long as Etienne, but I feel like I deserve at least a warning before getting left behind. Do you want me to go?”
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