As I've noticed that I have a tendency to filter things through the boys' P.O.V., we're going to try mixing it up a bit. After all, we could use a little peek into the minds of some of the others every once in a while. In a manner that's not one of our telepath friends knowing no bounds for personal privacy! I'm thinking Phoena's P.O.V. given the circumstances, so—without further adieu— hope you enjoy!
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Perhaps Phoena had been too defensive, in more ways than one. The moment Nim had taken an interest in Callan, her first instinct had been to wedge herself between the two and bat the Manabe away like an incessant pest. Like they were a vulture and the shifter a carcass they could pillage for their next meal. On one hand, she knew the curiosity was little more than a selfish desire to see their parents' work realized made respectable by the advantage it would give the Runeholders in their upcoming battles. If it worked, that was. On the other hand, she couldn't help wanting the eccentric Manabe to keep their distance. To keep their hands to themself— their theories to themself— so he wouldn't have to risk himself. He was making a habit of it, and the more Phoe grappled with her feelings, the harder it was for her to stand by and watch. He'd already been through enough, more than she'd even realized, yet they wanted to throw him right back into the fire. And if the blonde knew anything about Callan Dellal— about Orin Crue— she knew he'd do it. Not for his own sake but for theirs. High-minded as that was, it turned bitter inside her, piling onto the overwhelming swell of emotions that battled inside her.
She was still upset at him and mad at herself for being upset with him to boot. Because she knew that she was being unreasonable and that she had no right to feel as she did. Callan had countless memories tampered with, his entire childhood replaced without his knowledge or consent. Sachi had been on his own for three painful years, ridden with guilt, because of what Callan had been forced to forget, and the shifter had to come to terms with it all. As much as she might've wished she could help Cal through it deep down, the front she'd put up didn't lend itself to making that desire obvious. How could she expect him to rely on her when she readily pushed away his camaraderie— his affection and her own— and vilified it? She didn't have a leg to stand on, and her resentment was misguided. She knew all that but still couldn't squash the ache in her chest, that nagging part of her that had hoped against all sound reason that he'd entrust her with his burdens all the same. He'd kept that secret to himself, as much as a person could with two telepaths in their party, and she felt she owed it to him to respect that decision. It wasn't malicious. It was in his own self-interest, and the shapeshifter certainly had room to be more selfish. It wasn't his rune, but Callan's selflessness could compete with its true Runeholder's without question.
The blonde was busy fretting over their predicament, praying that Brady knew better than to poke around in her head after Cal had run off. She didn't need his unsolicited advice on the matter, and none was offered. With luck, that meant his focus was elsewhere. On the Manabe who'd pouted in disappointment and slumped on the bench beside the scattered research notes they'd fetched after Callan's disappearance. Phoe's gaze flicked in that direction. It was definitely a possibility with the other brooding as they were. Braedyn tended to latch onto darker moods like that, and as appearances went, Nim looked far more put out by the ordeal that Phoena did. Though, in reality, the human girl was simply masking it better.
"How long do you think this thinking of his is going to take him?" Nim asked, finally breaking that drawn out silence that had settled over the group.
"You did give him a lot to consider," Phoe said quietly, wringing her hands together.
Sachi placed his over their clasped form a moment later, squeezing them as if to soothe her. His assurance was welcome but hard to accept when his face was as troubled as her heart. "I'm sorry," he told her meekly, but Phoe shook her head the moment those repentant words left his lips.
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R U [ I ] N E D
FantasiaBattle is the language of the ever-proud empire of Gwyrholm. Its politics and government are nearly non-existent, the commander of the army ruling over all subjects. The army is all encompassing- men, women, children- young and old all working toget...