Author's Note: Until this point, Tasha has probably seemed more like a side character in this story, which she isn't, but it never really felt right to tell her tale as often as the others early on. This chapter is all about Tasha, however, and her plot will take more precedence in the future. It's also the first chapter to introduce Talon's character post-Incident and fully healed. I thought about adding other scenes for the other characters, but the banter between these two went on for quite a while and I rather like having a chapter focused solely on these two under-represented characters. Any readers waiting on more about Emmaline and Rowan, you will be delighted by the chapter after this. But for now, please enjoy the power play between these two.
Chapter 21: Quid Pro Quo
(One month and three days Post-Incident)
Talon could count on his fingers how many people knew about this island getaway, would bother to come here, and it took only one hand to count the number of people who would come mid-morning. So he was a little perplexed when he heard someone knocking on the driftwood door that Alia had installed in the front. The original canvas-drape door hadn't been a sufficient front door in her opinion.
Being made of drift wood, and installed by someone who was a hobby crafter at best, meant it also loudly rattled when knocked upon. It was more than a little startling, especially when one's attention was heavily diverted by a crossword puzzle. Talon grabbed his vine-woven cane off the seashell table and left the center of the room to open the door and meet this unexpected guest.
"Surprised to see you here, Tasha," noted the Pyromancer when he caught sight of her. "Everything ok?" His question came after a quick, cursory glance over the Thaumaturge. She was wearing indigo capris, white sneakers, and a conservative three-quarter sleeve lilac blouse that was unadorned by embroidery. Even if he didn't know Tasha well, he spent long enough around her to know her fashion sense, and this was strikingly casual for the woman.
"I know it's unexpected and short-notice," Tasha began politely, "but I need to discuss something with you."
"About Alia, I presume," Talon raised an orange eyebrow and leaned against the doorway, "since you skipped class to stop by, knowing she'd be at Ravenwood."
"I'm not skipping class," Tasha retorted in a huff, crossing her arms, "I happen to have permission from Professor Greyrose to miss class today." Her reply earned a short-lived smirk from Talon as he stepped aside to hold the door for her.
"Of course you did," he chuckled, "come in then and we'll chat." As Tasha walked past Talon looked her over a little further, hazel eyes examining her for clues her words might seek to conceal. He noted her hair was worn differently today; her artificial curl at the shoulder and beaded side strands were replaced by hair straight to her shoulder blades and without bead or braid, held away from her face by a turquoise headband. Her whole appearance today was cute and simple, like Alia's wardrobe. It was a startling contrast from her usually elegant, mystical robes and dresses. "New hairdo looks good on you," Talon decided to start there and see what he could figure out about this not-Tasha-like Tasha before him. "Haircut?"
"Wha- oh, thanks," Tasha smiled reflexively, like she hadn't expected the compliment, or forgot what she had done with her hair this morning. "I thought about cutting it actually, but a friend of mine at Ravenwood suggested I wear it differently first and go from there."
"Wise friend," Talon approved, walking slowly back to the table. "Why the change though?"
"Just want to try something new," Tasha shrugged, "that's all." She sat down and set her arms on the table, looking up at Talon nonchalantly.
"Fair enough," Talon let it go. He was pretty sure he wasn't going to get further for now.
"Alia told me you were healed," Tasha mentioned as Talon moved closer, taking notice now of the organic cane he used while limping towards the table. And the fact that he was wearing a shirt and pants that were at least two sizes too big for him. "She never mentioned you needing a cane now, though. Is it permanent?"
"Nah," Talon waved off her concern as he came around the chair and laid the cane upon the table. "Just need to exercise my muscles in my leg, work them up again after they atrophied from a month of neglect. The muscles are too weak so most of my weight would be supported by freshly healed bone, which could break it again. Should be strong enough after a week or so of physical activity. Alia, a friend of mine named Lenora, and myself are going to hike Grizzleheim's trails to do just that this weekend," he said as he sat down across the table from her, propping his elbows on the edge and crossing his fingers in front of him. "It's good you came by today, actually. I've been thinking of talking to you myself."
"If it's about Miguel, I'm not interested in discussing that," Tasha held up a hand. "It's a personal matter and none of your business."
"He's a close friend," Talon growled softly. "Therefore it is my business. Or, at least, it is reasonable for me to make it my business." Talon had a sudden glint in his eyes that made Tasha uneasy. He seemed less jovial today than she remembered him being before the Incident. This Talon was sober and inquisitive. "So how about a quid pro quo then? You want a candid discussion regarding Alia; you'll have to give candid discussion regarding Miguel." Talon smirked when Tasha pouted. He could tell she was regarding his proposal seriously, and cautiously. He would have to choose his questions carefully.
"Very well," Tasha agreed with a badgered sigh. "But this stays between us, or I'll have a Frost Giant use you for practice." She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. Talon separated his fingers to wave open palms in front of him.
"I swear it." He gestured to Tasha. "Lady's first."
"What is your opinion of my twin sister?" Tasha asked swiftly, having that question at least already prepared before any of Talon's nonsense had entered the conversation. Talon rested his mouth against his once again entwined hands, eyes on his knuckles as he thoughtfully hummed.
"I think she is a kind and caring soul," Talon began slowly, "trapped in an excessively energetic, rash young woman. She seems lacking in intellect but that's just in the classroom. Her wits are sharp and she excels most when there is a problem to solve. She lacks conventional beauty, instead having a wild, untamable allure that mirrors the beauty of a thriving forest. Her temper might make her an unstable and dangerous friend, but even at her worst I think she keeps her power in check, unwilling to inflict lasting damage to her friends even when enraged. Which is one of the reasons I also believe she may be one of the most loyal and trustworthy friends you could have."
"That was… rather poetic," Tasha commented, surprised to hear such an elaborate and charming response from the goofball that used to be Talon.
"I didn't woo your other sister with jokes alone, Tasha." Talon smirked back at her, amused by her sudden, slight blush. "My turn. Do you consider me a good friend?"
Tasha flashed back to her argument with Alia the night before about their friendship with Talon. It was true she kept him at arm's length as she did with the majority of men in her life. That didn't make him less of a friend, but it did invalidate the designation of 'good' friend. She kept her gaze fixed on him as she dwelled longer on Alia's part of the conversation, particularly her quip at the end. He needs your friendship as much as mine. Tasha did not share that opinion right now, sitting across a table from the man who was obviously expectant but hardly desperate for an answer. He seemed abnormally aloof, perhaps bored, as if he knew her answer. His was hardly the behavior of a man in great need of friends.
"No," Tasha finally broke the silence, confident and guiltless in her admittance. "I'd barely call us friends, little more than colleagues." Tasha sighed before expanding her answer. "But we did fight together in a war, and no matter how little I know of you –or want to know of you- that has created a battle-bond between us I can't deny. You are not the kind of person I would voluntarily befriend; you're fun and interesting yes, but also far too friendly and flirtatious for my personal comfort. Almost like… creepy friendly." Tasha frowned when Talon pursed his lips and his brow furrowed. Maybe I said too much? Sugar-coat the truth a little, geez! "As a brother-in-arms I cannot help but care for you and your wellbeing Talon, but at times it feels like having a brother I love deeply but never wanted." Hopefully that will soften the blow.
"I appreciate your honesty, Tasha," Talon replied coolly, but his expression remained displeased. Tasha wondered if he was actively holding back anger. "Words that are hard to say and hear are often the ones that need most to be said and heard."
That sounds like Miguel, not Talon, Tasha thought as she nodded in agreement and considered her next question. "Is this Lenora woman a romantic interest from your childhood?"
"Once, before the war," he replied with no hesitance, but Tasha did see his face fall. That question may have had more emotional sting than she had intended. "But I suspect the war has ruined that option for me, as I heard she is happily courting with a gentleman from Marleybone."
Drat, Tash grimaced, there goes any hope of her being competition to keep Alia off of him.
"Do you feel your role as housewife is unappreciated?" Talon asked, earning a stern glare from Tasha.
"No, Miguel is a wonderfully appreciative husband," she concisely responded, then turned the conversation back on him. "Do you still have feelings for Rowan, romantic or homicidal?" It was Talon's turn to glare now, but he never moved his hands away from his face.
"Neither," he responded, internally delighting at Tasha's surprised expression. He was concerned she'd not believe him, but catching her off guard was more imperative at this point than keeping the truth believable. His last question had erected walls that he now had to destroy. "I have a deep regret for what I have done to all of you; the punishment did not fit the crime. I endeavor to never harm another person to the best of my ability. And while I do still care for Rowan, I swore to myself to never be such a fool again. Romance with her is as dead as she is; I cannot risk either or both of us repeating our mistakes and causing another Incident."
Tasha breathed a sigh of relief, releasing some of her tension. He seemed serious enough about the statements, though it was hard to believe he would drop her sister so easily now, after his behavior previously. But if he really was unwilling to be hurt again, it is likely he didn't even consider Alia as a romantic option. This uplifted her spirits.
"Has Miguel been abusive to you," asked Talon quickly, pouncing on her sudden ease with intent to destabilize her. His eyes were hard and cold, concern the only emotion he allowed to grace his features when an enraged Tasha took the bait.
"ABSOLOUTELY NOT!" While Tasha had not expected the question, she also did not need to deliberate long on her answer. She rose swiftly from her seat with frosted hands pressed against the table and snarled at Talon. "What sort of friend would even think such a thing of Miguel?! To have the gall to accuse him of abuse! You should know better than to even think it!"
"I thought I knew Rowan too," he countered not with anger, but a sadistic sort of smirk. "But I am glad to hear Miguel continues to be a model husband. Which means the problem in your marriage lies with you, doesn't it?" His accusatory toned only prodded Tasha further.
"It does not lie with me," she snapped back and folded her arms defensively, "it's not my fault he's too much of a chauvinist to appreciate I have talents outside of housewifery!"
Instead of retaliating, Talon reclined in his chair smugly and rested his hands on his lap. "You miss it, don't you? The war." It barely counted as a question with the tone he took, as if he was merely looking for verification of what he already knew.
"Why in the Spiral would I miss something as horrible as that war?" Tash responded reflexively. For her such a statement seemed completely nonsensical. Looking back on that war brought so many memories of pain and violence. Every time she read about it she encountered a story of heartache and loss she'd never heard before. Every interview the Saviors did, she participated reluctantly. She hated that war. She hated that they had to kill Malistaire to end it. Why would she miss that?
"Because you gained a taste for battle," Talon surmised to her with a confidence that was unsettling for Tasha. "You realized you could wear ball gowns and host tea parties and still fight monsters just as effectively as your sisters. Rowan mentioned how the three of you were raised to be great wives for any nobleman who would take your hand, and how of them all you were the most enthused at the thought of following in your mother's footsteps. Rowan and Alia rebelled, but you thrived. Probably spent your whole life accepting it was your fate to be a kept woman managing a wealthy estate. But now you find going back to that life to be very unsatisfactory, don't you?"
Tasha was figuratively frozen, trapped in startled contemplation. She had never viewed the war in that manner, but his conclusions about her current feelings were accurate. After four years of civilian life, two of which were spent married to the man of her dreams, she was finding herself fidgety and bored, fatigued by the mundanity of everyday life. Alia still had school and Rowan was teaching, so they had plenty of excitement and discovery in their lives. Tasha only had the manor, tending to their investments, and whatever shallow hogwash the ladies of court felt was worthy of their gossip. Miguel was bound by royal secrecy to excise most exciting details from his telling of his work, and rarely called on her help when working on a project. She had returned to her younger hobbies such as knitting and painting, but it didn't ease her anxiety. It didn't fill the need that only grew stronger with each passing year.
"That creepiness I mentioned earlier," she retorted, "this is a fine example. You've clearly been thinking way too much about me."
"When the patterns in the thatch roof get boring, I need something to occupy my mind," Talon countered. That smug smirk lingered on his face. "Is Miguel forcibly keeping you from branching out?"
"No, but he also is failing to notice my unease with being a housewife and constantly, needlessly protecting me," she explained. She sat down with a loud huff. "He not only kept me in the dark about your impending plot –which I found out about only because he left a scrying ball on the table when he rushed to get over there- he also told me nothing about Rowan's worsening condition. My own sister was becoming a threat to the country and he 'didn't want to worry me'," she mocked his voice, shaking her head and throwing out her arms. "My own sister! Seriously! I have a right to know!" Tasha exhaled exhaustively before putting her head in her hands and resting her elbows on the table.
"Feel a little better?" For the first time since this conversation began, when Tasha looked up she could see a familiar smile on Talon's face. She glared back but nodded. She had lost her control and given up way too much information, more than her sister had ever gotten. He had played her like that flute he used to play around their campfires. "Sounds to me like the issue is a lack of respect. He doesn't respect your capabilities so treats you like most Marleybonian woman: frail and vulnerable."
"I guess so," she shrugged, looking at the table instead of Talon. "Sounds about right."
"So what now?" Talon pried, motioning towards her as a whole. "Are we trying to dress less like a Marleybonian and more like your sisters in the hopes he'll respect you like he does them?"
"No, not at all," gasped Tasha, shaking her head vigorously. Free strands whipped her in the face, a sensation that was not customary with her previous hairstyle. "This was part of my friend's suggestions; a change in wardrobe is a good start to changing your lifestyle, apparently." She shrugged again. "You are right, I am tired of being the doting housewife, but you are also correct in your assumption that it is the only future I've ever known. Being a princess was my dream. Now… I don't know yet who I want to be, I just know I do not want to be the woman I was raised to become." Her shoulders heaved as she let out a hefty sigh. "But I also don't want to be like my sisters. I've got to try to find out who I have become."
"Redefining yourself is terrifying," Talon sympathized. He had reverted back to that sober sadness as Tasha had spoken, and it still seemed foreign on his face.
It occurred to her that Alia mentioned he was likely seeking redefinition himself. She decided she would make that her next question, and then it dawned on her. "You owe me three or four questions, you cheater," she jabbed an accusing finger at him. Talon did not defend himself, merely shrugging and motioning for her to carry on. She folded her arms on the table and looked him square in the eyes. "Are you seriously giving up pyromancy?"
"Yes," he admitted despondently, folding his arms. "My pyromancy is only good for destruction, and destruction is only good in war. In peacetime, I am nothing more than a danger to everyone, so long as I allow my inner fire to express itself. I cannot allow that again."
"You know there are consequences to suppressing your innate magicks, right?" Tasha dug deeper as her concern grew that Talon was unintentionally creating another infernal rage.
"Yes," he replied, "but I hope to mitigate any problems by focusing all my magical energies into Theurgy and magical gardening."
"But that isn't going to work if you completely ban yourself from Pyromancy," countered Tasha with a deep frown. "There's redefining yourself and then there's denying yourself. You are a Pyromancer, Talon, by birth. You can't ignore the Dragon's blessing same as I can't ignore the Giant's, or Alia the Storm Lord's. You cannot change the nature of your soul."
Talon had been getting tenser as Tasha spoke, his countenance growing more aggravated with each statement and his crossed arms tightening. He was gritting his teeth but kept that fact hidden behind tightly sealed lips. For several seconds when she had finished, he glared at Tasha with such ferocity she was reminded of his face during the Incident. She tensed up instinctively.
"I have to try," Talon finally pointed out with a seething, but leashed anger. Tasha doubted that leash would hold for much longer though. "Or else I can't continue to be around my friends, my family… civilization. If I don't quench my inner flame then I will be forever incompatible with society."
"Your father has managed to control himself. Can he help?" Tasha interjected.
"Through a combination of herbal concoctions, and Thaumaturgy, yes," Talon snapped back. "I will be seeing my parents to look into those options. But my father also has a loving, supportive wife who is committed to keeping him stable and controlled. I have no such person." Talon closed his eyes and sighed.
"You have your friends, though," Tasha added after a small pause. Talon snorted loudly, and Tasha thought she saw smoke come from his nose.
"Yeah," Talon retorted, anger boiling over suddenly. He whipped out one fist and held it up between them, index finger raised and the tip on fire like a candle. "Let's count those friends you mentioned, shall we?! I've got a Sorcerer who is too busy with his job to bother inquiring to his best friend's health."
"That's not-"
"An undead ex-lover," Talon cut Tasha off by raising his voice; his middle finger rose with slow, threatening purpose and also caught fire, "who is as likely to kill me as she is to console me!" Tasha had no counter to that comment, but his threatening aura was causing her to lean back into her seat. His ring finger rose and ignited. "A Conjurer who was never really my friend and is also so terrified of me he went into hiding!" His little finger rose next. "A healer who is probably tired of my bullshit, especially after I threw a meteor at her!" Tasha's eyebrows shot up in astonished fear. Alia hadn't mentioned that! Contrary to the others, Talon's thumb shot rapidly out as he continued the count, ignoring Tasha's reaction; now his whole hand was engulfed in flame. "A childhood ex-friend who knows who I was, not who I am now, and probably has no interest in supporting adult Talon like she had child Talon because she's too busy with her new boyfriend who's probably far more mentally stable!" Talon's clothes began to shimmer as the temperature in the room rose. His enflamed hand suddenly whipped in Tasha's direction, pointing at her. "And then there's you," Talon growled, "the pseudo-friend!"
Tasha's instincts, honed by war, screamed, and she rose quickly from her chair, batting it aside before taking a defensive stance, arms crossed like a shield and hands spread, ready to cast a spell. Ice crystals crawled along the skin of her arms. Neither wizard moved or spoke. Talon's lips curled into a malicious snarl as he saw Tasha sweating.
"Scared? I bet you are! You'd rather be anywhere else right now, as far from me as possible!" Talon leaned back into his chair and folded his arms again, closing his eyes. "I only released a small amount of Pyromancy, and you are already terrified... That is why I must renounce my 'blessing'," he spat the word like it was a bitter fruit. The temperature in the room slowly dropped without Tasha's input, but she did not let down her guard. This conversation had revealed to her that the new Talon Skullflame was emotionally erratic, moving from calm to enraged within a few sentences; even now he was back to that eerie calm he had at the start of the conversation. Her twin was also prone to fits of anger like this Talon, but Alia was not quick to regain composure, often roiling for far longer than was reasonable. Meanwhile, Talon's conflagration of rage appeared to have run its course and snuffed out. And with Alia she usually knew she was going to provoke that anger. She had tried to console Talon, and somehow provoked him instead. Her next question would have to be more carefully chosen.
"Do you think your plans can… return you to your former mental state," she asked slowly, every muscle rigid in anticipation of her question eliciting an aggressive response. Talon opened his eyes and set a lingering, quizzical gaze on the woman.
"No." The response was as unwaveringly final as a smith's hammer striking metal. "This is my former mental state. The Talon you know was nothing more than a mask I wore in public, so no one could see this, so no one could tease me or ask probing questions about how I can be so miserable and so happy within the same day."
"I'm sorry for probing…"
"Don't be," Talon held up a hand to ward off Tasha's pity, "that mask began to crumble when we were in Dragonspyre, and I burned it away during the Incident. You all saw the real me, and I can't come back from that revelation. You've seen too much; there is no point with any of you. Probably no point hiding myself from anyone anymore," Talon shrugged.
"Did Rowan know?" Tasha relaxed her arms and crossed them over her chest instead. "The real you, I mean?"
"Doubt it," he snorted back with a sad smile, "I didn't open that side of me to her willingly. She was already dour enough daily. Didn't seem fair to add my own depressing crap on top of that. How would either of us be happy if we were both wallowing in misery?"
"Misery loves company," Tasha shrugged. She found herself feeling sad for Talon, and try as she might she couldn't kill that feeling.
"Yeah, company that isn't also miserable," grumbled Talon.
"Fair enough," Tasha mused. "Will you be like this the rest of your life?"
"Nope," Talon scoffed, "and that's what is so damned annoying about being me. I'll have days where I'll be back to my old self again, then days where I am so fatigued by sorrow I can't muster the energy to cook a meal. Some potions can help mitigate the severity of the changes, but it will never go away. Since childhood I've been considered low severity, but I suspect that has drastically changed." Talon frowned. "Like you, I'll have to rediscover myself." They shared a moment of silence, followed by Tasha picking up her fallen chair and righting it. Neither seemed certain what to say next until Talon spoke up.
"Are you concerned Alia is becoming infatuated with me?"
Tasha cringed. She had come here to find out if Talon was attracted to Alia, not to give away Alia's likely growing interest in him. His knowing could cause him to pursue her, and Tasha didn't want that. But there had been an overwhelming amount of honesty in this conversation already. As concerned as she was about her over-revealing of personal matters, she did appreciate Talon's blunt honesty with her; even if it unnerved her. Besides, he likely already knew the true answer at this point, much like he had with his first question.
"Yes," Tasha sighed, shoulders dropping with defeat.
"Don't be," Talon snapped back. Tasha's body likewise snapped to attention. "She'll abandon me just like everyone else soon enough. They all do, even Lenora. She dropped me like a bad apple when she discovered how much of a warrior I am. Alia will follow when she fully realizes how unhinged and dangerous I am. It is inevitable."
"I…" Tasha wasn't sure what to say to that. He sounded angered but resigned; resentfully but submissive to his fate.
"You have the answers you came for, and so do I," stated Talon. "You should probably go before you miss more classwork. Congratulations on getting back into Ravenwood, by the way."
"Um… Thank you," Tasha hesitantly replied. "You are right. I've overstayed my welcome." Tasha headed for the door and stopped short of leaving, turning to notice that Talon had not moved from his chair. He just stared mournfully at the wall where she previously stood. "Thank you for answering my questions."
"Same," Was the only reply she got, and when nothing else came forth she opened the old wood door and left.
Alia is infatuated with me…