Title: Aftermath
Author: Trialia
Fandom: Parting Gifts/Stealing the Elf-King's Roses (Diane Duane)
Rating: K
Word Count: 354
Beta: VR Trakowski
Summary: A parting of the ways.
A/N: Never written in this particular area of the fandom before, couldn't think of a good title, so I hope story and title both will serve. (I know I don't specify what the 'happenings' were; that's the way it was meant, fill in for yourself? :))
x
Sirronde stepped out of the lightening shadow of the inn's doorway and into the courtyard. Dawn was barely breaking, yet Lariat was already prepared to set off on her journey home - if one could call the village she came from a home; from the stories she had told, the girl didn't seem to see the concept of 'home' in the same way as most. She stood beside the grey mare at the edge of the stable door, fiddling with the catch of her single saddlebag.
They might not be friends, exactly, after all that had happened in the last few weeks, but Lariat could do with good wishes, she decided. Needed them, even. The best.
"In the Name of the First Loved, I wish you safe passage," Sirronde spoke, just loudly enough to be heard.
Lariat jumped slightly, turning toward her. A hesitant half-smile crossed the girl's face.
"Thank you," she said awkwardly - still unaccustomed to such kindness from near-strangers, Sirronde thought.
"Am I still a stranger?" she asked, an edge of wry humour to her voice.
"I - I suppose you're not." Lariat smiled more fully, shyly.
"Are you leaving so soon?"
Lariat ducked her head a little. "It's almost harvest time. I thought if I could use as much light of each day as possible for the journey, I might be home in time to help bring in the wheat."
Sirronde smiled.
"Go well, then," she said, extending a hand to her. Lariat shook it, returning the smile with less hesitancy at last.
"I wish you the same," she responded, "and I hope that you find what you seek." She paused, turning back to the horse and stroking her mane awkwardly before speaking again. "If you're ever in the area..."
"I'll try."
Sirronde let the girl go without another word, watching her swing up into the saddle.
We may never meet again, who can say? she thought, gazing into the distance as Lariat rode off at a trot toward the lightening horizon. Yet I hope she meets the reception she desires.
For what she'd done, she deserved that much. Didn't she?