Dark Tides

Chapter 14

There are whispers. Interwoven. Muddled.

Unlike the horrors from the forest that invaded your mind, these reach your ears in waves. You pick out a familiar deep voice from the jumble, and your heart relaxes. Sleep begins to lose its grip as the comforting hum draws you into awareness.

The muscles in your cheek twitch, and you are suddenly uncomfortably hot against the surface you're lying on. Every muscle follows, aches and pains making themselves known all over. You respond with a quiet but delirious groan, half-awake and more fatigued than you have ever been.

Kylo tilts his head down, interest swiftly taken away from the conversation in favor of admiring you in the process of waking up.

Your bleary eyes meet his.

Kylo has the urge to turn away his head and hide his wound, but you're already pushing up from his lap, coming to a seated position. Ap'lek and the woman, whose name Kylo now knows is Silfa, have stopped whispering. A priceless look of amusement crosses Ap'lek's face when you sullenly groan again.

Your hair is a mess. There are imprints on your cheek from sleep. You direct an intense frown at Kylo, and it takes a few beats for him to speak.

"Go with her." You look beautiful, he thinks in the same breath.

He swallows, stoic expression not betraying his inner thoughts. You give him a questioning look. "It's okay," he adds, a tiny spark of warmth spreading in his chest as a result of you subtly seeking guidance.

"Silfa, here, insists on clothing you more, 'appropriately' for a woman-," laughs Ap'lek before more seriously saying, "-and, considering Kylo almost killed her husband, I think it's best we not distress them further." His words earn him a glare from Kylo.

You turn to the woman and smile politely. She clasps her hands together like she's been waiting for this moment and excitedly gets up. She extends an aged hand, and you squeeze it. You are pulled upward with unexpected strength for a woman of her stature and age.

"Thank you-"

You are interrupted by a loud creak from the wooden floor as Kylo stands as well. Messy dark hair hangs over his forehead, obscuring some of the wound. The portion you can see, however, is covered in more of that paste. It forms a dark green stripe down his cheek with edges of the red, angry gash peeking around the edges. You're captivated, watching the almost imperceptible twitches of his lips and tired eyes.

Kylo lifts an arm, clenching his jaw in the same movement when it agitates his chest. He exhales through closed teeth as he places a hand to the back of your neck before you can step away. His thumb strokes your bare skin as he speaks.

"Anything odd, and you yell for me, okay?"

You nod hesitantly.

"I will not deny you the chance to get clean, but I do not trust either of them," Kylo continues in a gruff voice, making eye contact with you. "Vicrul has not awoken, and they are not allowing us to see him yet."

You hum in distress, looking over to the table only to find its blood-stained surface vacant.

Silfa pulls on your hand, and Kylo's palm slips away as you follow her towards the set of stairs. You look at Kylo once more. He begins to nod right before disappearing from your view. Climbing the rickety stairway up the narrow hallway steals your attention away. They creak with each step.

You get to the second floor and notice bundles of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling along with dark glass jars at varying heights. Some of them are low enough that you have to duck to avoid them. Silfa dodges them easily, no doubt from years of taking the same path. Morning sunlight beams through the dusty air and hits the jars, causing delicate patterns to form on the walls that morph as the glasses slowly rotate.