Eterna: Chapter 12 -- The Penitent Pass
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Blackness.
A dark so absolute your hand would not be visible if held up to your nose. She would have liked to try though, just the same. She didn't have a hand or a nose -- only her thoughts, and those were terrifying.
She had tried to think about anything other than were she might be, and what was waiting for her in the dark. Song lyrics had worked well for awhile, but had ended up twisting around until they were something else. Something that capered and shrieked -- something that said she was going mad.
That hadn't been the worst -- the worst was when she thought that maybe there was nothing waiting for her. Nothing. This was it. Alone. In the dark. For all time. That's when she had screamed. And screamed. And screamed. She had gone away after that. Now she was back, and she didn't know whether to laugh or cry, but was convinced to do either would result in unchecked hysteria. Hysteria that would just go on and on -- like the dark.
Then a disembodied voice came to her out of that total lack of light, and she didn't even try to hold back the high-pitched cry of terror.
"You can't stay here."
She was shocked to discover she still had the ability to speak. More shocking was that she sounded sane -- even bothering to be polite. It was absurd.
"Excuse me?"
"You have to break through."
Even in command the voice was gentle, and so sad.
"No thanks. I tried once already. All it did was put me here, and it hurt. A lot. Besides, I'm tired and... I'm..."
"I know you're tired and frightened. I'm sorry. It's... it's mostly my fault, what's happened to you. I don't fully understand, they never told me. When it started, I was only trying to do what I promised... to protect us. They used me. I'm so sorry..."
"Please. Please don't. If you start then I'll start and I hate it when I cry. It makes my face swell up like a blitzball."
"You're funny."
"That pretty much sums me up."
"You have to find a way to be brave as well, like him."
"Like who?"
"Like Auron."
Oh, God. Hearing that name hurt. Stop it. Just keep talking.
"Auron? You know Auron?"
"Uh huh, he's a good friend of mine."
"He's very special."
"I know. That's why I'm here. That's why you have to go there. He needs you."
"Go where? Where is he? What's wrong?"
"He's in the Farplane. Where you're supposed to be. He told some people once that they could die and be free of pain, but he hasn't been released from his. He spent too long as an Unsent so he could do what he had to do and now he's trapped in his pain. He wanted to give up too, but he's changed his mind. He wants to try and be happy and he thinks maybe you can help him do that."
What the voice had just said made no sense, and perfect sense. The implications brought fresh agony. First hope.
"Can I?"
"I don't know."
"And what about you?"
"Oh, I'll be okay. The Fayth look after me. They're really cool that way. Listen, I have to go... I've been here too long already."
"Wait! What am I supposed to do?"
"Don't worry, you'll know what to do when he calls. Be prepared though, like you said, it's going to hurt, and... and you'll be messed up when you get there. But he'll take care of you. He's the strongest and..."
"You love him as much as I do, don't you?"
"Yeah."
"I'll tell him that when I see him."
"Thanks, but... I don't think you'll be able to."
"Watch me."
-----------------------------------
It took him most of the day to prepare. To do what he could, and hope it was enough.
He began with kata and ended with meditation. If he was going to do this, he must to do it properly -- with no hesitation or regrets. Anything less would mean failure. Anything less would cheapen it.
It was nearing dusk outside when Auron finally rose from his cross-legged position to his knees. Then he raised his arms out from his sides -- looking upward to an unseen altar, where he placed an offering unlike any he had ever made.
"I surrender my heart. Do with it as you will."
His face lowered and he took a deep breath. He had meant it. Every word. A steady hand reached inside his robe and unhooked the clasp of a small pocket sewn into the lining -- its contents pushed from his thoughts since he had left Zanarkand.
Auron opened Isabo's hand and pressed her father's chess piece against her palm then closed her fingers over it, securing her hand around the talisman with his. Then he leaned over until his lips were next to her ear.
"Queen's pawn to queen's pawn four. Knight to bishop six," Auron breathed the words into Isabo's mind -- speaking the moves as though they were poetry, written in a language of feeling that only they could comprehend. He continued to recite -- every move of every game they had ever played. It was where they had started from and where they had ended. It was all the magic he had.
The mental strain to remember well over a thousand moves in sequence threatened to overwhelm him, but he kept his focus and went on -- his voice a hoarse whisper and his body soaked in sweat when he had finished.
His hand remained clasped to hers as he lowered himself to the floor in front of the chair and rested his head on the seat's arm.
-----------------------------------
She couldn't breathe. The air was white-hot fire burning her lungs to ash. Then the real pain started. It felt as though every molecule in her body was being slowly expanded and before it was over, it would burst her skin like an over-ripe grape. A pure, sharp panic took her in its talons then, pulling her back -- his voice beginning to fade.
Auron, I can't. I'm so scared. It hurts too much.
The thoughts were hers and they made her want to vomit. They made her furious. Coward. Weak, sniveling coward.
Then a strength she didn't know she had suddenly bubbled to the surface -- spreading through her in a flash-fire and she fought. Fought for her. Fought for him. She could hear him clearly now. Oh God how she wanted to see him -- to see the face that went with that voice.
Don't stop. Don't stop. Keep going. Do it, you worthless bitch! Do it!
-----------------------------------
Isabo gasped and her back arched in convulsion, limbs thrumming against the chair. The sudden violence tore her hand from Auron's -- the chess piece sailing back over her shoulder.
Auron shot upright and gripped the arms of the chair, his hands white-knuckled. "Can you speak? Do you know who I am?"
Isabo searched his face, looking for the answer. Then her mouth opened and closed like a fish on dry land before she finally managed to make her throat work and gut out the words. "Tough guy?"
His eyes closing, Auron lowered his head to her chest. "Not at the moment."
"Okay..." Isabo said, staring off into space and instinctively raising her hand to his hair -- her fingers threading through its sweat damp layers of white and black. "He loves you... he loves you..."
While he didn't disagree, she was understandably disoriented, and Auron thought it wrong to let her continue, but it felt so good -- her hand stroking his head and moving down his back. So good. Just a little while longer, surely there was no shame in that. His breathing slowed and his posture relaxed, allowing Isabo to give him what he had needed for so long.
Auron fell asleep there under her caress, as the light faded and the shadows drew around them in a deep purple cloak. She was unafraid in that darkness.
-----------------------------------
It immediately became apparent that Isabo's condition went beyond mere disorientation. Physically, she was as shaky as a newborn foal -- unable to take more than a few steps before needing assistance. Mentally she was the same, her mind having come back in a state of infancy. When she was hungry or tired she simply said so without pretense -- when she wanted something she asked for it with all the guileless innocence of a child. He had tried to explain where and what they were and Isabo seemed to get the gist, although her lack of emotional response left him wondering if she truly understood.
Auron had not budged from her side, and found himself afflicted with a healthy case of cabin-fever that mid-summer day almost a week later.
"We're going out," Auron said decisively, lifting Isabo from the chair and into his arms.
"Out," Isabo mimicked, her hands wrapping around Auron's neck as she drew her eyebrows together in an exaggerated scowl.
"I don't look that nasty," Auron said, a chuckle in his voice.
A warm breeze was shifting the grass in virid melody, the treetops playing second harmony in soft rustlings of branch and leaf. Auron tilted his face up to catch the light, thinking all he would have to do is close his eyes -- and the sounds would be there. The bright laughter of two boys splashing through a wading pool, his mother calling them in from the back porch. Memories sang here. And for the first time -- their voices were sweet.
"Oh..." Isabo moaned, her hands tightening around Auron's neck when they reached the edge of the crest and she saw the Farplane spread out below them.
"Is it real?" She asked, softly as the trees, a tear sliding down her cheek.
"Yes," Auron said quietly, "this is our world."
"I want..." Isabo said then, unclasping one hand from behind Auron's neck and reaching out in the direction of the flower fields.
"Granted," Auron answered, heading down the hill. "I believe I owe you a delivery of flowers."
He didn't enter the fields, choosing instead to carry her along their perimeter. As soon as they were close enough, Isabo emitted an odd cooing sound and reached toward the blossoms with both hands -- breaking off one after another until her arms were overflowing.
"That's enough," Auron teased, "greed does not become you."
Isabo smiled wanly and buried her face in the flowers with a deep inhale, then raised her head and promptly sneezed across the top of the bouquet -- sending a shower of humid petals against Auron's neck and chest.
"Pretty," Isabo commented, her eyes following the colorful cascade pasted to the front of Auron's body.
"Lovely," Auron responded in a less than good-natured tone.
The gruff sarcasm was rewarded with a peal of laughter -- the first he had heard from her. Auron thought the ignominy well worth it -- the mirthful sound gladdening him into a smile as he turned east and back to the cabin.
-----------------------------------
They were both breathing hard, but it wasn't the hike that had Melia and Braska fighting for air. The view had inspired them to indulge in more rewarding physical pursuits as they waited for Auron's return. They reluctantly took on more discreet positions when the details of the approaching figure and his cargo went from blurry to sharp.
"Auron looks much better, don't you think?"
"Yes, but it's not his exterior that concerns me."
"I know that," Melia said, punching her husband's stomach, "I'm just saying..."
Braska reacted to the blow as though he had been hit with a sledgehammer, laughing when Melia gave him that look that said he would be sleeping in the front room that night if he didn't knock it off. Sobering when Auron was close enough to make eye contact, Braska's voice was serious. "I came to tell you that I sent Grahl north. He returned last night. The Ronso have set up a watch at the cave entrance, we will know if..." Then Braska stopped when he saw Isabo turn her head to look at him, her face expressing mild fear at the appearance of strangers.
Auron opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, uncertain about where to start. He finally decided to just cut through -- there was no point in stating the obvious. "She is... not entirely herself."
Braska eased the awkward moment by moving close and reaching over the flowers to lay his hand alongside Isabo's face. "How do you do, I'm Braska, and you are?"
"Dead," Isabo explained.
"Then you'll fit right in," Braska said with a reassuring smile, gently patting her cheek.
Auron's eyes met Braska's, wordlessly thanking him on Isabo's behalf. He knew her well enough to know she would not welcome pity.
Melia stepped forward then, her arm encircling Braska's waist.
Isabo reacted with excitement when she recognized someone of her own gender, Auron lowering her to the ground when she began to squirm in his arms. "Who are you?" She asked in a wide-eyed frankness, studying Melia's face intently.
"Melia."
"Here," Isabo said, holding out her armload of flowers.
Melia quickly accepted the offered gifts before they could fall to the ground. "Thank you, they're very pretty."
Isabo tilted her head. "Like your eyes."
Those swirls of green filled with sudden tears, and Auron felt a newfound fondness for the woman he had always seen as barely more than a gadfly. She may be irritating at times, but her heart was true, and always had been. He thought himself negligent in not acknowledging that until now.
"Has she been able to..."
"Not yet. But I do not wish to burden you any further. I will do it."
She knew Auron was too honorable a man to mean anything untoward by that, but she also knew it would be difficult for him. It was a simple thing for her. Hopefully, his common sense would allow him to see that.
"It's not a burden. I want to. It makes me feel good to help."
Melia smiled her understanding of the silent nod. Then she transferred the flowers to one arm and held out her hand, Isabo taking it without hesitation. "Come, Kejan uv Pmuccusc, it's time for a shower."
Braska watched their slow progress in silence, and then turned to study Auron. He thought about how miraculous the human spirit was. Against all odds, Isabo was here in mind as well as body. And Auron, despite the depth of his wounds and years spent dishing out violence could not change who he was at his most basic -- an altruistic and benevolent man.
"I don't know how it happened, nonetheless, it's wonderful."
Auron considered sharing the experience, but it defied explanation on several levels. He also thought it something that should stay between Isabo and he. It was theirs, and theirs alone.
"I'm not entirely sure myself, but yes, it is... satisfying."
Auron didn't need to add the rest, Braska picking up on it at once. "Perhaps with time. Time and patience."
"I apparently have a sufficient supply." Auron's gaze was perfectly level, but his mouth betrayed him with a judicious smile.
His answer held all the drollery he was known for, but Braska heard the meaning beneath Auron's words. He heard Auron saying he could freely give her both. Clearly, there had been a change -- one that held the promise of redemption. Braska didn't bother trying to put how that made him feel into words, his happiness expressed by drawing Auron into an embrace.
Auron accepted it, and returned the loyal affection of his friend with all the forthrightness he could muster. Then Braska separated them by bracing his hands against the front of Auron's shoulders and stepping back. "What can I do to help?"
"Unclear. I'm making this up as I go, but I'll keep you informed."
Braska smiled, shaking a finger. "You'd better."
"Yes, Lord Braska," Auron said solemnly, crossing an arm in front of him and bending deeply at the waist -- chuckling when he felt a cuff against the back of his head.
"You'll pay for that by offering me a guided tour of this... interesting estate."
New amusement shook Auron's shoulders as he straightened and extended his arm toward the cabin, continuing to tease. "Right this way, My Liege."
"Evrae's nether regions," Braska cursed at him, stomping off toward the house -- his hand flinging his hair back over one shoulder.
Auron's chuckle expanded to a laugh as he followed after, enjoying Braska's discomfort immensely. "Have I ever imparted how eloquent you are when you're angry?"
-----------------------------------
Blackness.
A dark so absolute your hand would not be visible if held up to your nose. She would have liked to try though, just the same. She didn't have a hand or a nose -- only her thoughts, and those were terrifying.
She had tried to think about anything other than were she might be, and what was waiting for her in the dark. Song lyrics had worked well for awhile, but had ended up twisting around until they were something else. Something that capered and shrieked -- something that said she was going mad.
That hadn't been the worst -- the worst was when she thought that maybe there was nothing waiting for her. Nothing. This was it. Alone. In the dark. For all time. That's when she had screamed. And screamed. And screamed. She had gone away after that. Now she was back, and she didn't know whether to laugh or cry, but was convinced to do either would result in unchecked hysteria. Hysteria that would just go on and on -- like the dark.
Then a disembodied voice came to her out of that total lack of light, and she didn't even try to hold back the high-pitched cry of terror.
"You can't stay here."
She was shocked to discover she still had the ability to speak. More shocking was that she sounded sane -- even bothering to be polite. It was absurd.
"Excuse me?"
"You have to break through."
Even in command the voice was gentle, and so sad.
"No thanks. I tried once already. All it did was put me here, and it hurt. A lot. Besides, I'm tired and... I'm..."
"I know you're tired and frightened. I'm sorry. It's... it's mostly my fault, what's happened to you. I don't fully understand, they never told me. When it started, I was only trying to do what I promised... to protect us. They used me. I'm so sorry..."
"Please. Please don't. If you start then I'll start and I hate it when I cry. It makes my face swell up like a blitzball."
"You're funny."
"That pretty much sums me up."
"You have to find a way to be brave as well, like him."
"Like who?"
"Like Auron."
Oh, God. Hearing that name hurt. Stop it. Just keep talking.
"Auron? You know Auron?"
"Uh huh, he's a good friend of mine."
"He's very special."
"I know. That's why I'm here. That's why you have to go there. He needs you."
"Go where? Where is he? What's wrong?"
"He's in the Farplane. Where you're supposed to be. He told some people once that they could die and be free of pain, but he hasn't been released from his. He spent too long as an Unsent so he could do what he had to do and now he's trapped in his pain. He wanted to give up too, but he's changed his mind. He wants to try and be happy and he thinks maybe you can help him do that."
What the voice had just said made no sense, and perfect sense. The implications brought fresh agony. First hope.
"Can I?"
"I don't know."
"And what about you?"
"Oh, I'll be okay. The Fayth look after me. They're really cool that way. Listen, I have to go... I've been here too long already."
"Wait! What am I supposed to do?"
"Don't worry, you'll know what to do when he calls. Be prepared though, like you said, it's going to hurt, and... and you'll be messed up when you get there. But he'll take care of you. He's the strongest and..."
"You love him as much as I do, don't you?"
"Yeah."
"I'll tell him that when I see him."
"Thanks, but... I don't think you'll be able to."
"Watch me."
-----------------------------------
It took him most of the day to prepare. To do what he could, and hope it was enough.
He began with kata and ended with meditation. If he was going to do this, he must to do it properly -- with no hesitation or regrets. Anything less would mean failure. Anything less would cheapen it.
It was nearing dusk outside when Auron finally rose from his cross-legged position to his knees. Then he raised his arms out from his sides -- looking upward to an unseen altar, where he placed an offering unlike any he had ever made.
"I surrender my heart. Do with it as you will."
His face lowered and he took a deep breath. He had meant it. Every word. A steady hand reached inside his robe and unhooked the clasp of a small pocket sewn into the lining -- its contents pushed from his thoughts since he had left Zanarkand.
Auron opened Isabo's hand and pressed her father's chess piece against her palm then closed her fingers over it, securing her hand around the talisman with his. Then he leaned over until his lips were next to her ear.
"Queen's pawn to queen's pawn four. Knight to bishop six," Auron breathed the words into Isabo's mind -- speaking the moves as though they were poetry, written in a language of feeling that only they could comprehend. He continued to recite -- every move of every game they had ever played. It was where they had started from and where they had ended. It was all the magic he had.
The mental strain to remember well over a thousand moves in sequence threatened to overwhelm him, but he kept his focus and went on -- his voice a hoarse whisper and his body soaked in sweat when he had finished.
His hand remained clasped to hers as he lowered himself to the floor in front of the chair and rested his head on the seat's arm.
-----------------------------------
She couldn't breathe. The air was white-hot fire burning her lungs to ash. Then the real pain started. It felt as though every molecule in her body was being slowly expanded and before it was over, it would burst her skin like an over-ripe grape. A pure, sharp panic took her in its talons then, pulling her back -- his voice beginning to fade.
Auron, I can't. I'm so scared. It hurts too much.
The thoughts were hers and they made her want to vomit. They made her furious. Coward. Weak, sniveling coward.
Then a strength she didn't know she had suddenly bubbled to the surface -- spreading through her in a flash-fire and she fought. Fought for her. Fought for him. She could hear him clearly now. Oh God how she wanted to see him -- to see the face that went with that voice.
Don't stop. Don't stop. Keep going. Do it, you worthless bitch! Do it!
-----------------------------------
Isabo gasped and her back arched in convulsion, limbs thrumming against the chair. The sudden violence tore her hand from Auron's -- the chess piece sailing back over her shoulder.
Auron shot upright and gripped the arms of the chair, his hands white-knuckled. "Can you speak? Do you know who I am?"
Isabo searched his face, looking for the answer. Then her mouth opened and closed like a fish on dry land before she finally managed to make her throat work and gut out the words. "Tough guy?"
His eyes closing, Auron lowered his head to her chest. "Not at the moment."
"Okay..." Isabo said, staring off into space and instinctively raising her hand to his hair -- her fingers threading through its sweat damp layers of white and black. "He loves you... he loves you..."
While he didn't disagree, she was understandably disoriented, and Auron thought it wrong to let her continue, but it felt so good -- her hand stroking his head and moving down his back. So good. Just a little while longer, surely there was no shame in that. His breathing slowed and his posture relaxed, allowing Isabo to give him what he had needed for so long.
Auron fell asleep there under her caress, as the light faded and the shadows drew around them in a deep purple cloak. She was unafraid in that darkness.
-----------------------------------
It immediately became apparent that Isabo's condition went beyond mere disorientation. Physically, she was as shaky as a newborn foal -- unable to take more than a few steps before needing assistance. Mentally she was the same, her mind having come back in a state of infancy. When she was hungry or tired she simply said so without pretense -- when she wanted something she asked for it with all the guileless innocence of a child. He had tried to explain where and what they were and Isabo seemed to get the gist, although her lack of emotional response left him wondering if she truly understood.
Auron had not budged from her side, and found himself afflicted with a healthy case of cabin-fever that mid-summer day almost a week later.
"We're going out," Auron said decisively, lifting Isabo from the chair and into his arms.
"Out," Isabo mimicked, her hands wrapping around Auron's neck as she drew her eyebrows together in an exaggerated scowl.
"I don't look that nasty," Auron said, a chuckle in his voice.
A warm breeze was shifting the grass in virid melody, the treetops playing second harmony in soft rustlings of branch and leaf. Auron tilted his face up to catch the light, thinking all he would have to do is close his eyes -- and the sounds would be there. The bright laughter of two boys splashing through a wading pool, his mother calling them in from the back porch. Memories sang here. And for the first time -- their voices were sweet.
"Oh..." Isabo moaned, her hands tightening around Auron's neck when they reached the edge of the crest and she saw the Farplane spread out below them.
"Is it real?" She asked, softly as the trees, a tear sliding down her cheek.
"Yes," Auron said quietly, "this is our world."
"I want..." Isabo said then, unclasping one hand from behind Auron's neck and reaching out in the direction of the flower fields.
"Granted," Auron answered, heading down the hill. "I believe I owe you a delivery of flowers."
He didn't enter the fields, choosing instead to carry her along their perimeter. As soon as they were close enough, Isabo emitted an odd cooing sound and reached toward the blossoms with both hands -- breaking off one after another until her arms were overflowing.
"That's enough," Auron teased, "greed does not become you."
Isabo smiled wanly and buried her face in the flowers with a deep inhale, then raised her head and promptly sneezed across the top of the bouquet -- sending a shower of humid petals against Auron's neck and chest.
"Pretty," Isabo commented, her eyes following the colorful cascade pasted to the front of Auron's body.
"Lovely," Auron responded in a less than good-natured tone.
The gruff sarcasm was rewarded with a peal of laughter -- the first he had heard from her. Auron thought the ignominy well worth it -- the mirthful sound gladdening him into a smile as he turned east and back to the cabin.
-----------------------------------
They were both breathing hard, but it wasn't the hike that had Melia and Braska fighting for air. The view had inspired them to indulge in more rewarding physical pursuits as they waited for Auron's return. They reluctantly took on more discreet positions when the details of the approaching figure and his cargo went from blurry to sharp.
"Auron looks much better, don't you think?"
"Yes, but it's not his exterior that concerns me."
"I know that," Melia said, punching her husband's stomach, "I'm just saying..."
Braska reacted to the blow as though he had been hit with a sledgehammer, laughing when Melia gave him that look that said he would be sleeping in the front room that night if he didn't knock it off. Sobering when Auron was close enough to make eye contact, Braska's voice was serious. "I came to tell you that I sent Grahl north. He returned last night. The Ronso have set up a watch at the cave entrance, we will know if..." Then Braska stopped when he saw Isabo turn her head to look at him, her face expressing mild fear at the appearance of strangers.
Auron opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, uncertain about where to start. He finally decided to just cut through -- there was no point in stating the obvious. "She is... not entirely herself."
Braska eased the awkward moment by moving close and reaching over the flowers to lay his hand alongside Isabo's face. "How do you do, I'm Braska, and you are?"
"Dead," Isabo explained.
"Then you'll fit right in," Braska said with a reassuring smile, gently patting her cheek.
Auron's eyes met Braska's, wordlessly thanking him on Isabo's behalf. He knew her well enough to know she would not welcome pity.
Melia stepped forward then, her arm encircling Braska's waist.
Isabo reacted with excitement when she recognized someone of her own gender, Auron lowering her to the ground when she began to squirm in his arms. "Who are you?" She asked in a wide-eyed frankness, studying Melia's face intently.
"Melia."
"Here," Isabo said, holding out her armload of flowers.
Melia quickly accepted the offered gifts before they could fall to the ground. "Thank you, they're very pretty."
Isabo tilted her head. "Like your eyes."
Those swirls of green filled with sudden tears, and Auron felt a newfound fondness for the woman he had always seen as barely more than a gadfly. She may be irritating at times, but her heart was true, and always had been. He thought himself negligent in not acknowledging that until now.
"Has she been able to..."
"Not yet. But I do not wish to burden you any further. I will do it."
She knew Auron was too honorable a man to mean anything untoward by that, but she also knew it would be difficult for him. It was a simple thing for her. Hopefully, his common sense would allow him to see that.
"It's not a burden. I want to. It makes me feel good to help."
Melia smiled her understanding of the silent nod. Then she transferred the flowers to one arm and held out her hand, Isabo taking it without hesitation. "Come, Kejan uv Pmuccusc, it's time for a shower."
Braska watched their slow progress in silence, and then turned to study Auron. He thought about how miraculous the human spirit was. Against all odds, Isabo was here in mind as well as body. And Auron, despite the depth of his wounds and years spent dishing out violence could not change who he was at his most basic -- an altruistic and benevolent man.
"I don't know how it happened, nonetheless, it's wonderful."
Auron considered sharing the experience, but it defied explanation on several levels. He also thought it something that should stay between Isabo and he. It was theirs, and theirs alone.
"I'm not entirely sure myself, but yes, it is... satisfying."
Auron didn't need to add the rest, Braska picking up on it at once. "Perhaps with time. Time and patience."
"I apparently have a sufficient supply." Auron's gaze was perfectly level, but his mouth betrayed him with a judicious smile.
His answer held all the drollery he was known for, but Braska heard the meaning beneath Auron's words. He heard Auron saying he could freely give her both. Clearly, there had been a change -- one that held the promise of redemption. Braska didn't bother trying to put how that made him feel into words, his happiness expressed by drawing Auron into an embrace.
Auron accepted it, and returned the loyal affection of his friend with all the forthrightness he could muster. Then Braska separated them by bracing his hands against the front of Auron's shoulders and stepping back. "What can I do to help?"
"Unclear. I'm making this up as I go, but I'll keep you informed."
Braska smiled, shaking a finger. "You'd better."
"Yes, Lord Braska," Auron said solemnly, crossing an arm in front of him and bending deeply at the waist -- chuckling when he felt a cuff against the back of his head.
"You'll pay for that by offering me a guided tour of this... interesting estate."
New amusement shook Auron's shoulders as he straightened and extended his arm toward the cabin, continuing to tease. "Right this way, My Liege."
"Evrae's nether regions," Braska cursed at him, stomping off toward the house -- his hand flinging his hair back over one shoulder.
Auron's chuckle expanded to a laugh as he followed after, enjoying Braska's discomfort immensely. "Have I ever imparted how eloquent you are when you're angry?"