Twitchy and Arie have a Talk

(Just a scene)

His blue-gray eyes dropped away from her own gray ones for the fifteenth time. Arie blew out an exasperated breath. Twitchy only looked elsewhere when he was struggling with how best to ask something personal. Despite his inattentiveness his scarred hand never wavered out of proper defensive form. Arie felt a surge of frustration and charged forward slashing her blunted blade left to right. She had smaller size and speed that allowed her to get in close and strike unexpected places, but Twitchy had strength and years of experience as a thief. A swift palm strike to her sternum had her sprawled on the ground gasping for breath.

He sighed, "Arie, you know that won't work, kiddo. What's eatin you?"

"Nothing," she snarled back.

"Uh-huh." He twirled his blade between his scarred fingers before directing the point in her direction. "The ground disagrees with you."

Arie glanced at her fingers which were flexed like claws in the soil. Blue green fire moved silently over her hand without hurting her. The grass on the other hand was slowly withering in a perfect circle around her. Shame and fear colored cheeks red briefly. She took a deep calming breath and released it. With the out take of breath, life rushed back to the cliff-side clearing. Little wild flowers even burst to life under her fingers. Her magic danced on the back of her hand until she snuffed out the blue-green flame with a single thought.

"How many?"

"How many what?" The fire of her spirit seemed burned out, leaving a worn out shell of a child.

"How many couldn't be saved?"

Arie turned away from him and stared at the sea. From up on the cliff-side they could see all the different ships coming into port. It was beautiful, and if she was looking at the sea then maybe her teacher wouldn't see the tears welling up.

"Yesterday makes sixteen in the last week."

Twitchy sighed and came to sit beside her, his knife was laid down between them. His grubby pants were still in a desperate need of patching. "I talked to your mum. She says you can't help all of em. Your magic is good, but you aren't one of the Gods." He shivered impulsively when he mentioned the deities.

"I know." Arie drew her knees up to her chest and put her chin down on top of them.

He rubbed the back of his head and made a sound that between a groan and a sigh "Alright, we both know that's not what's been buggin you. What happened?"

After a long pause Arie finally admitted, "Same thing that always happens when someone dies."

Twitchy's hand fisted beside him. "They 'cuse ya of necromancy?"

"No, she just said I," she took a deep breath, "I killed her husband. That I am," her voice broke and she bit down on her lip to keep from sobbing. Then she put face against her knees and mumbled, "she said I'm a demon."

Twitchy swore, stood up, snatched his knife back up, and played with it in quick jerking motions. He looked like he considered throwing the blunted weapon at the nearest tree; some fifty paces away. Instead he paced back and forth behind her until his temper was back in check.

"I take it your mum doesn't know?"

Arie's head shot up and her gray eyes glared at him in a silent warning. "No."

"Why do you hide it from her? Anna'd set em straight."

She snorted. "Mom would be furious, and then she would yell at them. Then they may not call on her when someone gets sick or hurt." She shrugged helplessly "For some, mom is all they can afford. I do not want people to die because of me."

"Arie, a bunch of em tried to kill you a few seasons ago! Let em die!" His hands shook at the memory.

She remembered it well. A bunch of grown adults cornered her with rocks and pitchforks for weapons. So many people, she shuddered. To this day she was amazed that Twitchy had not only gotten there in time, but actually had the strength to face the crowd. It had been the first and only time since his own attack that he had been able to enter a crowd and not suffered a panic attack.

She resolutely shook her head no. "I cannot."

"You wouldn't feel their deaths from here. Only when ya go into that stinkin cist pit of a city do ya feel it." He sighed knowing this was a lost cause. "Thirteen years and you've got more guts than that whole place has."

Her cheeks flushed at the compliment, but she didn't say anything, just continued to stare out at the sea and the merchant boats.