A/N; Ah yes, the ever present critique that my characters are very emotional and dramatic—haha, thank you for picking that up. xD Feel special. ;D
Arya is a very odd character to write. x] And the whole Faolin & Arya was the only thing I could come up with for her to turn all like… silent and stuff. ;P
Thank you to all my lovely reviewers. ^^ You really do brighten my day. :3 You don't know how warm and fuzzy it makes me feel inside when I see that I get emails from fanfiction saying that I received reviews & favorites on my stuff. :3
All right. So, as I try to get back on track with my NaNoWriMo…
I am going to type, type, and type some more. ;D
And hopefully, you'll like the result, eh? -winkwinknudgenudge-
8D
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The patterns embedded in to the bark of the tree were old and fair worn out, though they still conserved an endless amount of history in their twists and turns. Long, delicate fingers skirted this pattern continuously, as if trying to find something in the tree's past that would help her achieve something.
Her manner was that of someone who wasn't paying attention, and of someone who was daydreaming. It was obvious that her mind was somewhere else, although no one could exactly guess what she was thinking about. In many ways, she was unfathomable.
A smile played gently with her lips, causing her face to border between its normal, passive state, and a more cheerful expression.
Summer was an enjoyable time of the year. It was the time when a sense of laziness seemed to engulf the whole of Du Weldenvarden, though in a good way. It was the time during which the greatest of elf artwork was created, for the best works of art can often be created when one is relaxed and calm.
A breeze idly wound its way through the forest, followed underneath by the hint of a stream snaking its way through the lush woodland. Birds twittered happily, flying every which way while their richly colored feathers could be spotted against the greenness that dominated the woods.
It was clear that more time had ticked away, and eventually the gap between Arya and Faolin resealed itself until both of them resolved to forget about that day. Still, Arya kept the part of her that was more cautious and reserved, as well as thoughtful.
Tracing the lines on the tree bark once more as if trying to memorize the feel of it, she withdrew her hand and spun around when she picked up a faint treading sound of footsteps behind her.
"You're too good at hearing," Faolin muttered in a mock sense of frustration. He pulled up his face, and Arya could see that he had on a large smile that seemed to brighten everything in the surroundings up considerably—even her.
Arya's eyes briefly examined Faolin before she responded in turn with her own greeting. Sitting down on the ground, she looked up expectantly at Faolin until he too sat down.
The two sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. Arya unconsciously reached out and brushed a few petals attached to a flower—a morning glory, to be exact. The relatively symmetrical shape was appealing to her, and she couldn't help but admiring the beauty that the flower seemed to hold—in each petal, and in each color. Faolin, noticing her interest in the type of flower, began muttering a quiet incantation under his breath, hoping that she wouldn't notice. His eyes shone from excitement, as a sudden inspiration had struck him, and he hoped he would manage to get it right.
A pale green glow shone in the palm of his hand, but he kept it behind his back in order to keep it from Arya's view. He was intending for this to be a surprise, and Faolin certainly didn't want anything to ruin it. It would take a while, and a good portion of his strength—but it was worth it. If questioned why it was worth so much to him that he completed this task… well, to tell the truth, he wasn't exactly quite sure. Even so, he could reason that it was a nice thing to do for a friend.
While Arya seemed to remain captivated with the assortment of different morning glories spread out throughout the grass, Faolin proceeded to work. He eyed the many colors that had already been sung, and his mind quickly processed the already used colors, determined to come up with his own color scheme.
After a while, Faolin glanced over his shoulder at the flower in the palm of his right hand. He felt rather drained of strength, but a sense of happiness overwhelmed him as his eyes caught sight of the flower that he held. His eyes shifted over to Arya, who had broke her contact with the flowers in order to look at him with a wondering look.
"You like those morning glories, do you not?" Faolin asked, his eyes twinkling merrily. Obviously confused, Arya simply gave a nod in response.
"Well then, princess—and please do not object to the title this time—I present you with my own creation of a morning glory, simply for you," he continued, bringing the bloom from behind his back.
Velvety petals that seemed to have been dipped in ink encased a golden stock of nectar. Maintained at the flower's throat was a splash of sapphire blue, so rich that it quickly caught the eye. A fragrance wafted from the blossom, causing a smile to tug at Arya's lips as she fought and wrestled with words in order to express her gratitude to Faolin for the flower.
Still, her thanks would not only be for the flower—she also wanted to thank him for everything that he was in her life. He was her best friend, and sole companion and confidant.
"I…" she began, then stopped, as she truly didn't know what to say. She was at loss for words; every time she tried to begin a sentence, she would never get passed one or two syllables. Finally, she managed to get a few words out. "It's beautiful," she murmured, casting her eyes down as she filled her eyes with nothing but the flower.
Faolin's smile widened as she voiced his approval of the flower in two, very simple words. Taking her hand, he transferred the blossom from his grasp in to hers. "It's yours," was all he said in response, matching her two words with his own short phrase.
"Thank you, Faolin," Arya said, finally managing to gain control of her words. Even so, an awed expression had locked on to her face as she beheld the bloom. "I will treasure this forever, and I can assure you that this act of kindness will never go unnoticed by me."
"It is my honor, Arya Svit-kona," Faolin answered with a deep nod.
"May I have the honor of bestowing an extra honor of you?" Arya asked in a teasing tone. Faolin looked up with a questioning look. "May I be so selfish as to wish for a few more of the same flower?"
Faolin met Arya's gaze evenly. "No, my lady. Never."
The two of them made more duplicates of the flower. Even though Faolin had exhausted part of his energy from creating a flower from scratch, he found it easier and easier as he continued on making simple copies of the flower. The first one, however, was the one that he would always recall the most, and it was the first one that he would always remember the most. When he voiced these opinions out to Arya, she simply nodded in agreement.
Recollecting the previous events from earlier today, Arya's thoughts gave a slight trill of happiness and delight as she once again glanced down at the flower she was holding.
Her current station was sitting in a tree, at a branch that was midway up the trunk. It wasn't dazzlingly high, but it was high enough that it offered her some sense of seclusion away from the rest of the elves. There was no exact purpose for her to need privacy, but there were times when she liked to escape for a few moments in order to sort out her thoughts or feelings about certain things.
Right now, however, all she felt was complete and utter joy. Her smile, which had been on her face for a while now, was radiant and was truthful to how she felt. Most of the elves she had interacted with had realized this, and with that, their own moods brightened—even those elves that were already in quite the optimistic mood.
Faolin was currently off running a few errands, and Arya was glad for the chance to be able to take a breather from the rest of the world for a few moments. She did get a few minutes of it, but was then interrupted by her mother.
Even though Arya disliked being disrupted in her times of contemplation, she knew better than to make a note of this to her mother—especially as Islanzadí was the queen.
"Mother," Arya addressed her as her mother made her presence clear in the branches of the trees.
"Daughter," was the return. It wasn't exactly the most formal greeting on both of their parts, but it sufficed, as there was no one listening, and neither of them expected much respect from one another.
When Islanzadí drew closer to Arya, her eyes flickered almost immediately to the flower that her daughter was holding. "Daughter," the queen began, "that is a most exquisite flower you hold. Pray tell, however, why did you pick it?" Her tone was not accusative, though—it was simply a tone of observation, as it was not quite custom for elves to pick flowers, since flowers had lives as well, although they just weren't quite as well developed in the sense of being able to think for themselves.
"I did not pick it," Arya said quickly in return. She considered dancing around the subject for a moment in hopes for her mother by accident changing the subject, but then thought it was better not to stray from the already clear path. "Faolin gave it to me," she added bluntly.
"Gave it to you?" Islanzadí asked, raising her eyebrows. "I have not seen a flower like that growing in our forests… then again, I am sometimes all too forgetful…" She trailed off here, looking at Arya with interest.
Did she not already know the answer? Exasperation filled Arya's mind, but she kept her voice level. "He created it for me, if that suits your inquiries more," she remarked, her tone almost bordering a sarcastic level, though she was careful.
"He did, did he…" Though the words were question based, there was no questioning tone to them as Islanzadí regarded Arya with a thoughtful eye. "Well, I must say that he has certainly mastered the art of creation well," she commented.
"Indeed," was the short, clipped response from Arya. She wanted to leap from the tree and to spirit herself somewhere away from here, because it felt as if right now, her mother were interrogating her, trying to pry something out of her—and Arya didn't like it, not one bit. Then again, it could be assumed that all her mother wanted to do was get closer to her… yet somehow, Arya did not quite think that was the case.
Eyeing her mother suspiciously, Arya grasped the branch of the tree she was seated on with her left hand (the hand that was obviously not holding the flower). "Why are you so interested, if I may ask?" the female elf asked her mother, a hint at a defensive edge in her voice.
"Oh, no reason," the queen answered airily, as if she had not a care in the world.
Arya did not quite trust the queen.
Trust… if Arya could not trust her own mother, the queen, then who could she trust? Faolin was the most apparent choice, yes, but was there anyone else? At this point, it suddenly struck Arya head-on how lonely she was. She had Faolin as a companion—but there was no one else. Yes, the other elves treated her kindly and offered her certain measures of hospitality—but none of them were truly her friends beyond being just simple acquaintances. Swallowing nervously as she recalled that one time when she had let her emotions take the better part of her away, she realized how close she had been to losing the one true friend she had—the one true friend who she could trust.
Trust… Trust was an interesting concept, a concept that Arya wasn't quite sure she wanted to learn about. She didn't have much trust for anyone—especially herself, now that she recognized it.
Uttering a sigh, Arya murmured a quick farewell to her mother before departing from the tree.