Water and Wind

Chapter 29

Freya

To be perfectly honest, she has no idea what she's doing. It all comes together perfectly naturally, just like her breathing or blinking. First it's the portal thing that's not really a portal. Rather, she thinks, just an image of Nimue's face. A talking image, clearly, because that's what she's doing.

Arian is half dazed - and half crazed, his eyes searching hungrily over her face, his fluttering hand reaching out to the wind that knocks his weak limb back each time. Freya watches him nervously, just to make sure he doesn't make a break for it again. Nimue never said what to do if he actually escaped the bubble, and even then, her instincts have no idea what to do in that scenario.

"He'll try to stop me. But Freya, you have power. You have to stop him, understand?" It could get dangerous if he succeeds, very dangerous, and then nothing I do will be worth it. Promise me, Freya. Promise me. You have great power. I need you to use it. "Freya?" She realizes that the image is repeating what Nimue had told Freya herself, which is why it is so shocking to hear more words that didn't come from what Nimue had said to her.

The image starts swirling out of focus, but then swirls back, becoming clearer than ever. Freya strains her ears against the quieter words, the gentler ones, the more loving ones.

"One thing Arian, only one thing. I love you. And that's why I have to do this."

"You know what Arian? You're right. And I love you. And that's why."

"I love you. And think about it. I go. I'm one person. Better one than all, right?"

What on earth is she saying? Nimue never said anything like that about her. Ohhhh, it dawns upon her now. She was talking to Arian. Ouch. That was a blow. Freya thought Nimue loved her, but she's been saying all these things to Arian now. She glances over at him briefly. His chin is quivering and he's shaking, and suddenly, she's glad that Nimue said these things to him, because he certainly looks like he needs it. Even if it wasn't to her, she supposes, with a sigh.

Arian

He knows the voice is coming from the mirage, but for some reason he also hears it inside his head, as if Nimue is standing right next to him and doing that telepathic thing that she does sometimes. The words have stopped coming, but they reverberate in his head, over and over and over.

The sound of her sweet voice wafts through his head like the summer breeze, reassuring, lilting and calming, and he wobbles on his feet dizzily. He doesn't see Freya move to prepare to catch him, nor does he hear her voice asking "Arian? Arian? Arian?" He can't hear anything, see anything, do anything except fall backwards and listen to the repetitive sounds of her solaces and promises, refusing to listen to the minute voice that is trying to say they are empty.

Freya

Freya is getting very scared now. Her wind is barely lifting Arian off the ground, and her hands are getting tired. She doesn't want to risk dropping him flat on his back on the ground, so she tries to gently lower him the few inches, which, as it turns out, is a very difficult thing to do when you're also trying to maintain an image that is the sole reason Arian's eyes are actually moving and that he hasn't given up and keeled over and died yet. Well, almost anyway. Very difficult task for a three year old.

With one foot, she kicks the breeze up, then lets it down slowly so that Arian is barely resting on the hard floor. But then her foot gives in, cramping so hard she cries out, and Arian's head bangs on the stage. She's not sure he notices anyway. Besides, it was only a few inches, she tells herself, watching over him nervously. Circe used to tell her about something called concussions that happened when peoples' heads banged on something hard. Freya didn't want to be the cause of that nasty sounding thing. She blows wind in his face, hoping to revive him and crosses her fingers for a sign of stirring.

Arian

For some reason, the whole world has just tilted and slid out from under him, rather like someone aggressively yanking a tablecloth off a table with him still standing on it. And just as if he were standing on that table, his feet wobble, and then he just sinks, and the world goes blue and purple and rainbow before finally settling on just plain black. It is an interesting world.

The crowd has nothing to do now but twiddle their thumbs. Several babies are crying, and mothers disperse to put their children down for naps. The crowd dwindles, and the people on stage are grateful as families leave, not sure how long they are expected to be here. Only a small fraction of the previous crowd stay and wait, crossing their arms and tapping their feet as they examine the children and their parents like livestock at a fair.