WE BECOME THOUGHTLESS

thirty-two | that's weird, that's suspicious

Whether it was the lingering sensation of Alistair's lips on his, or the morning preparations for the day's festivities making him see everything through the eyes of some intolerable optimist, Cole felt amazing. Not even the soul-crushing guilt of having slept with a Chrysosian mindrenderer could ruin his day, even as his mother's voice pounded in his skull.

Traitor! Traitor! Screaming like a banshee.

Nope. Nothing would be able to get him down.

He couldn't remember the last time he had partaken in a traditional Welish celebration, being so caught up in his makings for a violent revenge, tangled up in his own grief that he'd forgotten what really mattered. A Clan coming together and celebrating one of their many holidays, despite any looming threat. There would always be a looming threat.

But for now, they could drink, sing, dance - just revel in the presence of friends and family, visitors and warriors. It filled him with such a sense of nostalgia, watching Clan Canale get ready. He could feel the fizzle and buzz of excitement in the air.

Emer jogged up from behind him and fell into step as Cole made his way through the village. She linked her arm with his, and her ever-grinning face melted into a sly smirk. "Oh Summers, you look - no, you couldn't... does the Great Cole Ursa look happy? What is this, are you feeling ill?"

Cole scoffed and cast a look to his side, where she was beaming up at him with that crooked-teethed smile of hers, looking unequivocally splendid with her flushed cheeks and dark hair braided to flatten against her head. There was a savage beauty about Emer.

"Hah, very funny," Cole said, smiling. He couldn't help it. "Can I not enjoy the day's festivities?"

Emer pouted in thought. "Well, I suppose you can. I just didn't think you had time to enjoy anything - so serious, you are."

"I am not."

"Am too," and they both couldn't help but snigger at the childishness of it all. Emer sighed overdramatically. "Heard you're stilling hanging around that mindrenderer though."

He whipped his head around to gouge for her reaction (perhaps she knew, why else would she mention his frequent visits? Gods, what if that in itself was suspicious?) and found that she looked almost the same, if not for the tension around her mouth, drawing her lips downwards slightly. He rolled his shoulders, working out the tightness. He needed to seem casual.

"Wouldn't be very nice of me if I left him alone for days on end," Cole shrugged. "He'll be gone soon anyway."

He was finding it increasingly difficult to keep the emotion from his voice, his true emotion, the part of him that imagined Alistair leaving like a departing soul leaving for Summersland. That part of him felt sick at the thought. A coil of hurt settled in the base of his stomach.

Emer gave his arm a tight squeeze from where they were joined at the elbows. For a moment, a strange look of sympathy dawned her dark features - a look that was there for a second and then gone the next. "You'll have to keep me updated," she said. "And - you can come to me, you know, to talk."

He smiled down at her, feeling a sudden flood of affection for his friend, squeezing her back. "'Course. Same goes for you."

"Always."

The festivities began in the evening. Everyone had slipped out from their homes to contribute at least one meal to the feast - outside, a table was adorned with all sorts of foods. Roasted chicken, mushroom stew, platters of fish, most of it meat. And when people weren't eating, they were dancing around a fire, drinking their livers to death. It was marvellous.