perseverance

They sit together on the hills near the stream, each of them avoiding the view across the valley. The sky is black as pitch, but plenty of light is provided by the lanterns and cannon fire of the Tethe'allan army as they assail Sylvarant's capital, belligerent and unforgiving. Some would call it payback, karma or even revenge. To Mithos, it's another day wasted roaming the world in search of an impossible peace.

Martel's hand finds his in a moment of sporadic firelight. She grips it tightly, brings it to her lips and places a soft kiss on his worn, bloody knuckles.

"It's days like these," she whispers to him, and only him, "that make me want to give up."

Such a simple phrase, but for a woman as strong as Martel to utter those words means a great deal. Mithos waits for her to continue.

"But we mustn't ever give up," she says quietly. Her eyes shine in the dark, full of hope even as they lose another battle. She leans out and wipes a drop of blood from his cheek. "Be strong, Mithos."

And though it's dark, Mithos smiles for the first time in days and knows that she can tell.


I'm baaaack. :)