A/N: This was originally a Writer's Craft exercise on image patterns in a romantic story. It somehow reminded me of a potential relationship between a certain traditional anime couple…can you guess? Lol. I changed some details around to make it fit. Hope it worked! Also: Thanks very much to Dreamsinger, for pointing out a very important typo to me. I've just fixed it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Slayers. If I did, I would have cured Zel at the end. : (

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-Silent as the Stones-

"Say something." She waited gravely in the stillness, save for the sound of resonant river crickets. "Why won't you say anything?" Her glimmering eyes pleaded shamelessly, blue watery depths refusing to blink away the coming tears.

He was silent. She was not. It was complicated in that way – for two people to communicate when one of them, somewhat unwillingly, preferred to express themselves in other ways. Her porcelain cheeks were no longer flushed, she was used to him being like this. Silent as stone.

The deep black waters rippled shyly due to the impact of the small rowboat carrying the two drifters, its polished, wooden surface suggesting inexperienced exploration. It had not traveled very far, akin to the girl who was lightly balancing herself upon its tranquility. It was his idea to use the boat for what she expected to be a private conversation, and she was excited. Thrilled, actually.

Her child-like movements as she delicately helped him row them out into the dark but beautiful pond clearing caused her to almost portray herself as an enthusiast. But he knew that she was. The princess kept nothing hidden.

His roughly textured eyelids were closed; full lashes overtop cool teal eyes. Her own watery ones could not see them, though. He was making sure of that. She sighed wistfully and took a deep breath, the cold night air tickling at her throat. She stared at his face, his strong and defined jaw line appearing more square-like that it really was, perhaps due to the dark willows casting their famous shadows over his face.

Trying to ignore the fact that he had still not responded, she optimistically admired the familiar setting of the stone patterns around his chin. They were especially peculiar, she thought, and somewhat logical. Well, he did have a fairly logical mind. She grinned. Monster or not, she still adored him.

"I-" she began, her translucent breath flowing over the gap between them, disappearing as fast as it had left her dry lips, "I don't want us to act like this." She waited for him to respond, to question, but his mouth remained still. Why was he insisting on behaving this way?

Smoothing back her short ebony locks, the princess raised a quizzical eyebrow, forgetting that he could not see her (by choice). She bit her lower lip, rushing into her next sentence without any fear of consequence – or perhaps, no further patience for delicacy. "Tell me what you feel," she began, "and don't be gentle."

There. She had said it, was proud. His idea of leading her out here away from the others had been enticing but also very curious. He was not the sort to openly speak of his feelings. She knew that. Her last sentence, short but full of different meanings, caused him to snap his eyes open. The luminescent moonlight reflecting off the dark waters was no shield to her gaze – she could very clearly see his facial expression. She heavily fought the regret building up within her upon seeing his usually indifferent mask spread into one of uncomfortable grief.

Displaying a tremendous amount of self-control for one so altruistic, the princess held back the apology that was begging to escape her throat. She hated making him uncomfortable, but she also needed this honesty from both of them. Feelings were being too carelessly thrown about in her opinion. It was unjust, unfair to him and to her on different levels. She, an inexperienced love-struck princess being swooned by a cold and indifferent mercenary was in all terms of the word 'unusual', exactly so. Not that her father disapproved of course, (or that he even suspected anything).

The man sitting across from her, long legs tucked neatly against his chest, was as self-conscious as ever.  Over time they had come to develop a mutual, wordless understanding of why he would never be able walk around unmasked in her kingdom, though that understanding was set on completely different terms.

She could cope with the fact that he was uneasy in a crowd, never one to draw attention to himself and such. People were naïve and easily frightened in this day and age, and seeing a potential 'demon' would cause anyone to feel threatened. The mask was necessary at times, but what the princess could not for the life of her comprehend was why his own appearance could render him so utterly helpless, even when they were alone.

She loved the way he looked, his smooth blue skin and pointed, slender ears.  Had told him this on several occasions, but her compliments always seemed to do the opposite of soothing. He was stubborn and probably would be until his cure was obtained.

"Zelgadis-san?" Her voice was meek, eyes cast downwards and lacking the confidence displayed before. He still did not respond, and this stirred a sudden frustration within her. A stray black hair slid out from behind her ear and just as she raised a white hand to brush it away, cool fingertips set it back in place.

Mere moments before he had moved closer to her, silently sliding across the small rowboat closing the space in between them. He did not know what prompted him to set her hair back in place, but felt that if he was unable to talk to her, he could at least offer some measure of comfort. Her response to this was unexpected and very unlike the girl he thought he knew. She was not happy at his touch.

She looked up into his face, surprise clearly written on her own, but stopped before the smile could fully spread across her soft features.

"I'm not a child," she said, perhaps a bit harsher than what was meant.

She looked away from him, small hands forming into fists. She felt like crying but doing so would only contradict her point. Her next few words came out angrily, short wispy breath in rapids. "You always treat this – me, as something to protect, and," she swallowed the lump forming in her throat, unwilling to accept defeat, "why can't you understand? I don't want you to protect me. I-" She could not say it, would not allow herself to. But a young woman's mind was always disobeying reason. "I want you to love me."

He visibly winced, hand shooting down to his side and away from her face entirely. He made a small gesture with his shoulder angling toward the other side of the boat, looking almost ready to go back. A thought entered his mind then, awakening his guilty conscious and he cursed himself silently for causing her pain. He was unsure of what to do but did not wish to see her cry. Anything but that, he told himself, noticing irritatingly for whom he was truly concerned.

He hated public affection as well as any confrontation on that undesirable topic…but this was too much. It had been his idea to row out here, away from a certain fiery sorceress and her blond companion merely because the prospect of speaking to the princess in private seemed more to his style and liking.

His style. His liking. 

He suspected that this invitation would strike some desire within her, perhaps even a little bit of false hope, but he had not cared. Her naive 'crush' had gone far enough. It was time to talk her through that, to make her understand that princesses could not always have happy endings with their beloveds. Gods knew what her father and other court members had been teaching her.

He had prepared an informal sort of speech, a fairly lengthy one at that – but such things never worked out the way one planned. This was a sensitive issue, not one that called for retorts and preaching, no matter how much he wanted it to. That was the easier way…but the princess, not unlike most other females, had something that could be called inconvenient to someone like the chimera. She had a heart. They were not easy to deal with.

Without warning she seized an oar, salty tears now running freely down her face. The clenching grip was rough, completely unlike her and he seemed to notice. Without thinking he laid a cool palm across the top of the oar, shaking his head a little as his grim face tried to muster a comforting look. He could scarcely feel her heated breath in his direction, even through stone skin. Her breath was warming, unaffected by the cool night. There was an innocence here that he was not entirely certain he wanted to subdue, but something had to be said.

She beat him to it. "I want to go back. Take me back." Her words were slurred and airy but he did not let the oar go. She tried to jerk her arm away, more ebony hair sliding over her eyes making her tears seem invisible. He could smell the salty wetness and it was making his insides stir, knowing that he was the one causing it.

She pulled on the oar harder, ignoring his grip and the boat dipped in a rocking motion, black ripples spreading in circles. She did not notice or care. He narrowed his brows, looking for the comforting yet stern words to use with her but could find none – so he continued his firm hold upon the wood.

This isn't the way, Amelia, he thought to himself. Something had to be said but she was making it so difficult, her youth blocking him from true honesty. She'd asked him not to be gentle, but how could one do that?

He could not, at this point, deny his genuine concern for her. He was still rather unsure of his feelings for the princess but did not under any circumstances wish to cause her pain. This frustrated him to no end as he tried to gather a temporary solution while firmly griping the oar.

With a set look about his handsome, darkened face, he toyed with the idea of just letting her go back to the others – he would speak with her later on. But what would that truly accomplish? Just a prolonged version of her pain, it seemed, and he did not favor that approach.

Throughout his momentary contemplation, she unintentionally gained the upper hand in their game of 'tug-of-war' and yanked at the wood with all her might, jolting him out of his thoughts.

The night was silent for a fraction of span, (not even the crickets could be heard) until the black pond erupted from the huge impact of the rowboat as it tipped over, sending its two passengers splashing into the night waters. Silver ripples spread rapidly and bubbles shot out from down below. It was freezing for them both, as little tadpoles unused to such temperatures in heavy clothing.

The chimera gasped as he found his way to the surface, stone arms flailing and a heavy weight in his legs. He was vaguely aware of his tendency to 'not float' while in water and this caused a sudden panic within him. Luckily, one of his flailing arms took the opportunity to locate the upside-down rowboat that happened to still be floating beside his thrashing form. The black waters had not pushed it away after the impact and he thanked whatever lord above him for that. He pulled his upper body forwards to sprawl over it and held on for dear life, his stony chest heaving. All was quiet again, save for his labored breathing.

His vision was blurred, but he still darted left and right, frightful towards what might have just happened. Where was she? He could not see her – only watery tendrils were avid in his view. His brow creased in worry and he hoarsely called out her name, his voice waterlogged and dreary. There was no response. Too much water in his lungs and an odd crimson light seen through his peripheral vision were his last observations before succumbing to darkness and fatigue.

The pond clearing was silent once again before the crickets began chorusing on cue, only to be interrupted by an enraged shout coming from the same direction as the intruding light.

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A/N: This was supposed to be a one-shot, but I'm thinking to add another chapter (I hope I won't have to do 2). R&R ^)^