Chapter Ten: Sentenced
After Ella left... the night dragged on slowly for Xaphile.
Teal eyes devoid of any emotional sheen, he lay curled up on his side, long hair spread out around him.
She would be passing his sentence tomorrow... whatever she had planned probably wasn't going to be painless, but he figured he could handle it. Being abused by his father had given him an extraordinarily high pain tolerance, as well as a few mental tactics to escape his physical pain. If whatever was going to happen hurt too much, he would simply go somewhere else inside his head.
As he lay there, however, all he could think about was Ella.
Not the evil clone... but the girl he'd initially fallen for.
His hands twitched, and he drew them close to his chest, feeling the familiar ache washing over his heart. The yearning to hold her... the desire to wrap his arms around her just one more time. The ache to embrace someone who could never embrace him back. Even though his mind kept telling him she was gone, the void in his heart continued reaching for her.
Or rather, for what she'd taken with her when she'd passed on.
All he could do now was wonder about everything.
How had people reacted once word had gotten out that he'd taken his own life in the very same spot Ella had died in?
How had his death affected Connie?
Regret filled him momentarily, but the hollow sensation where his heart used to be overshadowed it, reminding him of the reasons behind his own actions. He had left her a note explaining things: that was the only thing that mattered. Plus, it wasn't like his father would miss him... in fact, his old man was probably celebrating.
After all, without him, there was one less mouth to feed.
Unbidden, tears stung his eyes like acid and began streaming into his hair, but he didn't even care enough to wipe them away. His vision clouded over and blurred as his pain took on physical form and trickled down across his nose and onto the floor of the cage. The moonlight did nothing to soothe him.
The pain continued rising... smothering him... crushing his heart.
Slowly moving his leaden arms, he forced himself to sit up and weakly pressed his back against the bars.
He felt like he would go insane if he didn't do something with himself.
Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and let his mind drift off somewhere else... picturing Ella. Her smile... her face... her voice... the sensation of her soft, cool hand holding his own... and just like that, his release came to him.
"All my friends tell me I should move on, I'm lying in the ocean, singing your song. Oooooh, that's how you sing it," he quietly hummed, voice coming out as little more than a velvety murmur. "Loving you forever, can't be wrong. Even though you're not here, won't move on. Ooooooh, that's how we play it."
Back before his life had crumbled around his ears, Lana Del Rey had been his favorite singer.
He'd dreamed of meeting her someday.
Until the moment Ella had passed away, he hadn't really resonated with many of her songs, but Ella had loved it whenever he'd sung them. This song... Dark Paradise... he truly understood it.
He understood the loss behind the lyrics.
"...and there's no remedy for memory. Your face is like a melody: it won't leave my head. Your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine. But I wish I was dead..."
He quietly it belted out, voice bouncing off of the strange stone buildings.
"Every time I close my eyes... it's like a dark paradise. No one compares to you. I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side. Every time I close my eyes... it's like a dark paradise. No one compares to you. I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side..."
As his lilting, lightly accented voice floated through the air, something flashed across an open window nearby.
Not long after, a face that looked addled with sleepiness appeared.
"All my friends ask me why I stay strong... tell 'em when you find true love it lives on. Ooooh... that's why I stay here. And there's no remedy for memory... your face is like a melody: it won't leave my head. Your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine... but I wish I was dead."
Several glossy strands of voluminously curly hair slid into the open as a girl who looked to be in her late teens poked her head outside the window. She blearily peered around, obviously trying to find the source of the song, but it wasn't until she realized it was coming from the cage that her eyes widened with lucidity.
Blinking rapidly, she leaned on the sill and listened.
"'Every time I close my eyes... it's like a dark paradise. No one compares to you. I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side," Xaphile hummed, "Every time I close my eyes... it's like a dark paradise. No one compares to you... but there's no you, except in my dreams tonight."
Silence rang free for a moment.
"I don't wanna wake up from this tonight," he softly trilled, eyes blurring with more tears. "I don't want to wake up ever again."
Just as he was about to curl up and attempt go to sleep, a very soft voice split the air.
"I didn't think demons could know such beautiful poetry," the girl in the window said quietly. "I was always told they were mindless beasts... but that was one of the loveliest things I've ever heard. Tis a shame it comes from the mouth of a creature so evil."
Xaphile lowered his head, shoulders sagging in defeat.
"I'm not evil," he whispered, drawing his knees up to his chin and burying his face in them.
"All demons are evil."
"I'm not a demon, though," he tiredly shot back, "so don't assume things about me."
"Hm? If not a demon, what are you?" the girl asked, planting her chin on her hands and staring at the cage. "You sure look like a demon with those strange horns of yours."
Her voice wasn't harsh or angry, just undeniably curious.
"I don't know anymore," Xaphile croaked, not lifting his head, "but in the end, it doesn't matter. Tomorrow, I'll be free. That's all I really care about."
"What do you mean you'll be free?" she asked, lifting her head off her hand. "You aren't thinking of going on a rampage, are you?"
"No, nothing like that," he snorted, finally looking up. "Ella's passing my sentence tomorrow."
The girl fell silent, hand falling to her side.
She looked uncomfortable.
"What's your name?" she eventually asked, hooking a strand of her long brown hair behind her ear. "If you're going to die, I would at least have that."
He scowled, then lay back down.
"It doesn't matter," he bitterly informed her, curling up into a ball. "My life is worthless."
With a solemn blink, the girl slowly turned away from the window, long hair gleaming.
"All life has meaning," she stated quietly, voice trickling out into the open air. "Even if you were just a murderous beast until now, yours has a meaning, too."
Xaphile watched as she let the curtain fall across her window.
He closed his eyes about a minute after she disappeared, feeling more than a little exhausted. Reluctantly, he lowered his head and sank into a gentle doze despite his willingness to stay up. Not long after he did so, though, soft mutterings intruded on his flickering dreams and roused him into awareness.
He opened his eyes a little... then they popped open wide.
For some bizarre reason, the girl from a few minutes ago was sitting in front his cage. Her hands were folded around a cross and her eyes were closed. She was barefoot and wearing an extremely old-fashioned nightgown, but the strangest part was the sight of the tears on her cheeks.
"Why are you crying?" he demanded, feeling extremely confused. "More importantly, why are you out here?"
"Death is sad," she told him, not opening her eyes. "I will pray for you until morning."
"Why?"
"Because there's a strange amount of sadness within you. I heard it in your voice."
"How do you figure?" he bitterly sneered. "Everyone else seems to think I'm incapable of feeling anything at all."
"Well, while its true that demons don't feel," she murmured, shaking her head, "somehow, your voice was full of pain. I will pray that the gods might take pity on you... that they might embrace you with open arms."
Xaphile stared off into space, tightening his jaw.
"If I'm really a demon now," he rasped, voice coming out low and coarse, "don't bother. Demons go to hell, so no matter how hard you pray for me, I'll never be able to find the woman I love."
"Eh...?" the girl breathed, head snapping up and eyes flying open in surprise; they were a clear crystal blue, but flecked with specks of green. "The woman... you love?"
"Yes," he grunted. "It simply doesn't matter anymore."
"Why?" she asked, blinking with confused eyes. "If what you say is true, doesn't it mean that you know love? If that's so, it's a good thing! It means there's a small chance you can be set free!"
He turned his head and looked at the brunette sitting in the dirt by the cage. She seemed genuinely concerned. He realized with a flash of recognition that this was the same girl who had been standing riveted while Ella had whipped him.
"Free?" he asked, averting his gaze. "There's no freedom here."
The girl tilted her head, glossy brown hair falling across her eyes as she gazed at him.
"Why?" she quietly asked. "What happened to you?"
His mouth twisted.
"The girl I loved," he rasped, voice falling to an almost unrecognizable croak, "she died."
For several moments, all she could do was stare at him.
Then, leaning forward, she carefully wriggled her hands through the bars and hesitantly reached out to him. He blinked when she pressed herself against the cage and gently touched him, observing her nervous expression while she set the red jewel residing on her cross against his skin. She waited for an entire minute.
Her face slowly took on an ashen tint and she looked stricken once she pulled the cross back out of the cage. With trembling hands, she fastened it around her neck and leaned close to the bars a second time, sticking her arms through the gaps and gently touching his cheek. Her expression slackened when she felt the wetness there.
"Tears...?" she asked, straightening up in shock. "You have been crying?"
He merely looked at her, not having the will to answer the obvious.
Not like it mattered.
His expression was enough to answer her question.
Instantly becoming distraught, she carefully brushed his tears away with her thumbs, then lowered her hands to his.
"This is wrong," she whispered, lowering her eyes to the ground. "I wish there were some way I could stop this. I would, if there were, but once Lady Ella decides something, nobody can stop her. Not even me. She's the Countess, after all."
"It's fine," he whispered back, staring off at nothing. "Don't bother me anymore."
Her eyes actually watered after he said it, and she abruptly tightened her grip on his hand.
He slowly turned his head and looked at her when she squeezed his palm, fingers shaking a little.
"Is there nothing I can do to ease your suffering?" she asked, looking at him with an earnest expression. "You should not have to cry all alone in the dark, especially not in a cage."
"No," he said simply. "The kind of freedom I want can't be given by letting me out of here. Even if you did somehow manage to convince Ella to let me go, it wouldn't make me happy."
She squeezed his hand so hard it almost hurt.
Then she let go and pulled her arms out.
"What is your name?" she demanded. "I do not wish for you to be forgotten. Tell me your name... that way, at least someone will remember you."
She folded her hands, looking genuinely torn.
Eyes lacking all luster, he caved in, figuring it didn't matter either way.
"Xaphile. My name is Xaphile Heseroph."
"Shah... Sha... fee... leh?" she slurred, sounding it out with furrowed brows. "Um, that's surprisingly hard for me to say. Do you mind if I call you... er, Xaphy?"
In an instant, his heart seized.
Body jolting, he clamped two hands over his furry ears and folded up, curling into the fetal position.
"Anything but that!" he squeaked, gritting his teeth. "Never call me that! Ever!"
She leaned away and blinked rapidly before examining his posture more closely.
"Then, Phil," she murmured, nodding twice. "I'll call you Phil instead."
"Do what you want," he croaked, not uncurling from the ground. "It doesn't matter anymore. Just, don't call me Xaphy."
"As you wish," she murmured, making him wince. "Do not worry. You will not have to face this night all alone, for I will stay by your side and pray for you until dawn."
Xaphile didn't believe she would.
But, he was proven wrong.
True to her word, the girl sat in front of the cage with her hands folded over her cross for the rest of the night, praying with a tight expression. Even when the horizon began to brighten, she sat there, hands clasped tightly. It was only when the sound of distant voices came from around the corner that her eyes opened.
Looking at Xaphile, she bit her lip, then glanced over her shoulder.
"I'm afraid I can do no more for you," she quietly told him, getting to her feet and brushing the dirt off the front of her frilly nightgown. "I promise I will not let you be forgotten, Phil."
He didn't respond: eyes dead to the world, he merely stared off into space and waited.
The sound of approaching people grew louder.
"You should go," he rasped, not moving a muscle. "If they find you here, it might cause you some problems."
The girl shifted uncomfortably, looking at him from over her shoulder. She seemed reluctant to leave him for some bizarre reason. Her blue eyes nervously flashed back and forth and she clenched her fists in obvious frustration, but in the end she ran off towards the edge of the houses and clean out of sight. Not long after, a group of guards holding a multitude of ropes came into view from the opposite corner, sweeping towards him with smirks and grins on their faces.
Pulling a set of keys out of a small pouch, the man in front unlocked the cage and backed away.
"Out!" he barked, jerking the ropes in his hand. "On your feet, beast."
Xaphile pushed himself upright and crawled out into the open, but before he could stand up, someone's boot smashed him face-first into the ground. He winced when he got a mouthful of dirt, but he merely put up with it when they jerked his arms behind his back and tied him like they had before.
With the exception of his feet, they tied every part of his body, even going as far as wrapping a rope around his throat.
He winced again when the head guard jerked on the makeshift leash.
"So, where are we taking him this time?" one of the men inquired. "Did Lady Ella inform you, captain?"
"We were told to bring him to the post in the town square again," the lead guard snorted, cruelly dragging Xaphile behind him when they started walking. "Apparently, she's going to sentence the beast at sunrise. Everyone has already gathered."
"Shite," another man groused in disappointment. "That means this is the only opportunity we have to enjoy a bit more fun before she kills it."
"Might as well make it memorable, then."
When one of the guards behind him snickered, he didn't think anything of it until someone grabbed his tail and yanked on it.
It was like he'd been shocked.
His back involuntarily arched and the appendage flailed around until it broke free. Without a word, he used whatever subconscious control he had over the damn thing to make it wrap around his leg to keep it away from their awful hands.
"Damn, did you see its face?!" someone whistled. "Must not have liked that."
"The same way you wouldn't like getting stabbed in the spine," Xaphile growled, not turning around. "Asshole."
A sharp blow sent his head flying forward.
"Hold your tongue,"the man behind him barked. "Filth such as yourself has no business talking to a human."
"The only filth here is you," Xaphile retorted quietly, defiantly lifting his head and walking with his shoulders squared. "I've never done anything to deserve how you bastards are treating me."
Another, much heavier blow, smashed into the back of his skull.
"Silence, lest I cut your tongue out of your head!" the man snarled. "Don't make me bloody my sword so early in the morning."
"Try sticking anything sharp in my mouth," Xaphile icily retorted, "and I'll bite your nasty fingers off."
When they rounded a corner and he found himself staring at what looked to be the entire village population, he was a little taken aback. Even so, he kept his head held high and ignored the looks they gave him, walking towards the post he'd been tied to ages ago.
So, he silently murmured. I guess... this is where it's gonna happen, huh?
He knew it instinctively.
Roughly gripping his hair, the man holding the leash violently forced him down on his knees and tied him to the post by wrapping a rope around it and pinning his body against the wood by the neck. The position was painful and awkward on his body since his arms had been tied behind him. He forcibly went inside his head before anything painful could happen.
His mind somehow detached from his body and he became physically numb, in a strange way. He watched from outside of himself as people began throwing rocks at him while the guards stood by, laughing. Hell, one of them even stepped forward and started kicking him in the back, but he felt absolutely nothing whatsoever.
"Today, we've gathered to watch Ella sentence the demon to death!" one of the guards roared, lifting his fist to the sky. "This is our symbol of defiance to the monsters that try to destroy us!"
A huge cheer rose up, but beyond them, there were two people watching in disbelief. One who's eyes were full of tears, and the other who's shaking hands were clasped around a cross.
That's when she appeared.
The cheers immediately fell silent and the crowd parted just like they had two weeks before when Ella herself slowly began to walk towards the steps leading to the post he'd been tied to. In her hands was a silver sword, and her eyes were hidden by the sweep of her hair. Xaphile looked up at her when she stopped in front of him.
For a long moment, she didn't move.
Merely clutched her sword with the wind tousling her gleaming locks.
It dragged on for a little too long, in fact.
"Just do it," he finally ground out, tensing his limbs. "End this."
When Ella slowly lifted the sword and held the point directly above his neck, the brunette watching him immediately turned around and covered her ears. The cross in her right hand flashed as she muttered something so quiet it couldn't be heard.
"I am passing your sentence now," Ella stated quietly, jerking the weapon violently. "Forgive me."
He relaxed, since relief would be his within seconds... but instead of feeling pain, the pressure around his neck disappeared.
He blinked when the bonds around his wrists were sawed off moments later, followed by the ropes around his upper torso. Not understanding what was going on, he slowly turned to look up at Ella, but instead of the fury he'd come to know, her face was dark with sullen regret.
"This is your sentence," she stated quietly, turning her eyes to the ground. "You are free."
Xaphile's heart turned cold, and he realized with a sense of icy dread that he'd been wrong.
Perhaps he wouldn't be free of this nightmare just yet.
"Why?" he whispered blankly, staring at her without blinking. "Why won't you truly set me free?"
"Because I cannot kill a primordial sprite," she stated calmly, eyes sharpening in an instant. "My life would become void, and the forest around this village would die. I cannot let that happen."
Others, however, looked horrified and fearful.
People instantly began to back away, some clasping their children and others their weapons.
"My... my lady!" a woman cried, watching as Xaphile rubbed his wrist. "What have you done?! You... you have set the beast loose within the walls of our city! What will we do?! He will kill us all!"
Ella whirled with a fierce sweep of her leg, silver hair flashing like molten platinum in the sunlight.
"He is no beast!" the albino thundered, looking out at the crowd with a tight expression. "Because of my naivety, I didn't realize the truth about this creature! All of us here have committed an atrocious sin! By hurting this boy, we've turned the forest itself against us!"
Everyone immediately fell still and eyes slowly widened all around.
Disbelief and fear began to alight on every face present.
"What are you saying?" a man with sandy blonde hair and beady grey eyes demanded, stalking forward and folding his arms. "A beast with power over the land?! Isn't that impossible?!"
Ella shook her head.
"What is he?!" a young woman called, holding a small child close to her. "Isn't he just a demon?!"
"No! He isn't!" Ella rapped out, then lifted her hand and pointed at all of the nearby trees. "Haven't you noticed it?! From the moment the people in this village first struck him, the forests surrounding our home have been withering away! Even the harvests in the villages north of here are failing!"
"Preposterous!" a man somewhere in the crowd barked. "No demon can control the forest! It's inconceivable! It must be a coincidence, my lady!"
"Precisely! No demon can control the forest," she stated firmly, shaking her head, "and it is because of my ignorance that we are now in a dire situation! This boy is not a demon!"
"Then what?!" someone cried. "He is certainly no elf or hybrid, so what could he be?!"
Ella's gaze was dark.
"He is our forest's very last fairy!" she thundered. "The last Primordial Sprite of the South!"
The reaction to her statement was instantaneous.
Xaphile blinked when gasps of horror and shock filled the air all over the place, and far in the corner, a vaguely familiar woman with very dark brown hair actually fainted. Every single person within seeing distance had turned bone white, and it was suddenly so quiet you could have heard a pin drop.
Then... one by one... the guards dropped their swords and knelt down, lowering their heads.
Following suit, the crowd began to do the same, fearfully pressing their foreheads against the ground.
"Lady Ella... what are we to do?" Captain Angelo demanded, lifting his steel grey eyes with genuine fear on his face. "We have all wronged him... terribly. How can we ever atone for this?! What will the King say if he learns of our actions?!"
"Do not worry... I will take responsibility for this," Ella grimly informed him. "It was my choice that led to this situation... and if it isn't corrected, I'm afraid that a terrible famine will fall across Aerika. The forests surrounding our village have already started to die. I need to fix my mistake."
With little fanfare, she flipped the sword around and held the handle out to Xaphile.
He blinked and looked at it with a blank face, then glanced back up at her.
"What are you doing?" he demanded, staring at her with unblinking eyes. "Your... sword?"
"Take it," she stated coldly, eyes narrowing in a haughty manner. "With my own sword, strike me."
His already pale face went bone white.
"Lady Ella!" one of the guards whispered, eyes widening in horror when he slowly stood up and shakily took the weapon from her. "No... please! You mustn't! You're the Countess!"
She merely shrugged.
"If this will appease the wrath of the forest, I have to," she stated firmly, closing her eyes when the horned youth stared at the sword in his hand. "We all must bear the weight of our actions, no matter what they may be... but in turn, we must also take responsibility for them. Now, boy... strike me down."
Xaphile looked at her with disbelieving eyes.
Then, pupils sharpening, he lifted the sword and furiously smashed it so deeply into the wood that it was lodged nearly to the hilt. Ella jumped and gawked at the sword with alarm written across her features, then glanced up to see his eyes glowing with a bizarre aquamarine light. She jumped again, face growing taut when she realized that his irises were indeed radiating their own luminescence. It was the strangest thing she'd ever seen.
Not even demons had eyes quite like the ones she now found herself staring into.
However, everyone flinched when he growled.
Letting go of the sword, he furiously turned away from her, shoulders rigid and tail lashing out across the wood.
"Idiot," he hissed, gritting his teeth in fury as he stood there, staring at the wall with violently shaking muscles. "You're insane... you're ALL insane! How could you possibly think doing this would gain my forgiveness?!"
"Then... what do you want?" Ella snapped, clenching her fists with anxiety lacing her expression. "How can we atone for what we've done to you?!"
"Nothing! You don't have to do anything!" Xaphile barked, not turning around. "If you truly want to atone for something... all you have to do is keep living, Ella. That's how you can atone!"
When he jerkily stalked towards the stairs, she lunged forward and grasped his wrist.
He immediately halted, long hair billowing around and tail twitching sharply.
It thumped against her legs involuntarily, but she pointedly ignored it.
"You can't abandon us without returning the forest to normal," she whispered, looking up at him with nervous eyes. "It was your doing... so, can't you fix it?"
Slowly turning his head, he glanced down at her, making her face turn even whiter than her hair.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he hissed, catlike eyes glimmering like pools of frozen hatred. "With all due respect, let go of me. Now."
To his surprise, she jerked her hand back as if she'd been scalded.
He took that opportunity to stumble down the stairs and move past the people crouching on the ground. Getting away from this hellhole was his top priority. He was startled when someone unexpectedly clutched his pant leg, holding onto him with little hands. Blinking, he slowly turned his head and looked down to see Kirby staring up at him.
The child looked close to crying.
"Stay?" he rasped, little fingers tightening on his pants. "Please?"
Xaphile blinked, then squatted down, looking at him with a tired expression.
"I can't..." he stated quietly, lifting a hand and tousling the child's hair. "I'm strong, but I can't handle this kind of treatment anymore."
"Please?" Kirby croaked, shaking his pant leg. "Stay?"
"I really can't," he soothed, shaking his head. "I mean, even if I did stay... where would I go?"
"You could stay with me," a gentle voice offered, making everyone stiffen. "I don't mind."
Xaphile lifted his eyes when the brunette who'd spent the night praying for him walked up, wearing a green dress with a white apron tied over it. Her hair had been braided into pigtails that had been draped over her shoulders, and her blue eyes were large behind her half-moon spectacles.
"You?" he asked, staring down at her with a frown. "Why?"
"Well, I live alone... and there's an extra room inside my home," she explained, blinking up at him. "If you truly are the last of the woodland fairies, my door is always open to you."
He looked at her, then stood back up and rose to his full height, muscles rippling in the sunlight.
"Are you sure?" he demanded, looking down at her with narrowed eyes when she walked up with folded hands. "What makes you think an offer like that is a smart idea? After all, I could be holding a grudge for the horrible beatings these people gave me when I first arrived... as well as for the scars on my back, which they eagerly asked for and laughed at."
Every single person sitting in the vicinity winced, and a few of them shivered violently, but the brown-haired girl merely looked up at him with calm blue eyes. Lifting a hand, she gently set it against his bare chest, splaying her fingers out.
"I wasn't among the hateful, Phil," she murmured, blue eyes becoming undeniably gentle. "I saw both occurrences... and both times, I felt like what they were doing to you was most definitely not right."
"Then why?" he demanded, folding his arms. "Why didn't you speak out?"
"I had no right to do so," she explained, then gestured behind her. "I'm only a town healer, not a political figure... I have no power to defy those who govern this village or this country. Regardless, I still don't understand what could have possessed my neighbors to think of torturing you. To have witnessed the people of my home doing such a thing shames me."
He glared for a moment, then lifted a clawed hand and made the cowering people flinch.
"Then why aren't you acting like them?"
Her eyes visibly softened.
"The reason I am not prostrating myself is because I don't fear you like they do," she admitted, shaking her head. "I will beg your pardon for their behavior, but I won't cower when there's nothing to be afraid of."
People tensed all around, watching with bated breath as he dropped his arms.
His posture looked a little less rigid, but only because he seemed genuinely perplexed.
"Why are you so calm?" Xaphile bluntly demanded, brows furrowing in confusion. "I mean... from the moment I was first brought here, everyone was either angry or afraid... so, why?"
"I heard your song," she murmured, small hand rubbing against the black streak of fur on his chest. "It held no anger... no evil... no hatred. Only sorrow."
Ella's eyebrows lifted and she slowly stepped down from the post, pulling her hood up as she did so.
Then, stalking forward, she looked at the brunette with a dark expression.
"Song?" she asked, lifting her eyes and warily leering up at the horned youth. "What song?"
"Don't worry about it," Xaphile muttered, refusing to look at her. "It's none of your business."
For a long moment, Ella merely scowled at him... but then, she pulled his locket out of her cloak and held it out.
His eyes flashed and his hand twitched.
"This is yours," she noted, tilting her head and regarding him with a snide expression. "Take it."
When he stretched out his clawed hand and gently clasped the necklace, she released it and watched as he held it close to his chest for a long moment. Then, he lifted his grimy waist-length hair and carefully fastened it around his neck, awkwardly letting it rest on top of the strange furry mane he'd somehow sprouted.
"Will you stay?" the brunette asked, looking up at him with genuine curiosity. "Or will you go?"
Xaphile didn't know what to do, but he figured spending a few days to recover from his injuries in a real bed would be better than doing so outside. Lifting his large, be-clawed hand, he set it on her shoulder and sighed.
"I don't know... I need to figure a few things out before I decide to do anything," he told her, eyes sharper than a blade. "For now... all I really want is to wash myself off. I feel... filthy."
The girl's blue eyes lit up, and in front of everyone, she let out a bright laugh.
"O-okay, I'll draw a bath right away," she giggled, cheeks growing rosy with mirth. "For now, though, I'll take that response as a yes... so follow me."
Still chuckling, the girl clasped her hands and primly walked off towards the edge of the marketplace.
Feeling exhausted and confused, Xaphile followed her, walking right past Ella.
"Hey," she murmured, making his footsteps pause. "What you said... about me atoning for what I've done by living... why in the world did you word it like that?"
He turned to look at her, laden with feelings he wanted nothing to do with.
"Because in our previous lives," he said quietly, "you died. And it literally destroyed nearly everyone who loved you."
She sighed in exasperation.
"I'm not this girl of yours! I mean it! Yes, it's bizarre that we look identical, but she isn't me!" Ella snapped, voice hardening a little in contempt. "Plus, even if that girl of yours did die, time heals all wounds. Eventually, people would have gotten over it, no matter how sad they were."
Xaphile fell silent for a moment, choosing to stare at the ground.
"Not enough time has passed for me to judge whether that statement is true," he eventually grumbled, voice so low it was almost inaudible. "People loved my Ella because of who she was... but none of them loved her as much as me. And if forgetting her was as easy as you assume, I probably wouldn't be here right now."
Ella lifted her eyes and stared.
"What are you saying?" she growled. "What does that even mean?"
"It means that when she died... she took my heart with her," he whispered, speaking in a numb tone of voice, "and deep down, there was a part of me that knew I'd never be able to get it back. So... I gave up on living."
"You... gave up on living," she repeated, eyebrow twitching a little. "You really believe that you took your own life?"
She was expecting more sarcasm, anger, or maybe even a bit of taciturn coldness.
But when he turned and gave her an awkward smile, it was so unexpected that she actually froze.
The look on his face was a combination of grief and resignation... a look she instinctively hated.
"Even in death, her memory torments me," he weakly chuckled, gazing at her with crystal clear eyes that seemed to cut clean down into her soul. "Looking at you is painful. You are my Ella living in a world where we never met. It's nightmarish, but also a blessing that I'm kinda grateful for."
"Grateful...?" she whispered, suddenly feeling afraid without knowing why. "What do you mean?"
Those clear, blue-green eyes softened a little... then, turning around, he walked up to her. Lifting his large hand, he set it on the top of her head and gently ruffled her hair with another weak little smile that made her stomach clench.
"As much as I loved you back then... and as much as I still love you, even now," he murmured, gently stroking her head, "I would rather see you alive and hating every fiber of my being than dead because you were in love with me."
"But I'm not that girl of yours!" she cried, finally losing her temper. "I'm not that Ella!"
He smiled again, expression tight with sorrow.
"I know," he murmured. "Sorry for the misunderstanding."
When he slowly turned and walked away from her, matted black hair drifting in the breeze, she watched him go with large, confused eyes, touching the top of her head. A warm wind swept through the gap between them as the distance grew larger and larger. Xaphile's head hung low as he departed.
All he wanted was to go to sleep and never wake up again.