Love's Mercy

17 What You Know

an: well.. this is a big one.. 

Giovanni awaited the sounds of Daraen's footfalls to cease, and for any sign of life behind them to quiet. They glanced behind at the tents that lied still, and the fire that continued to die with the night's cold air.

Nothing more.

They rose, and walked with a quiet haste to a dark corner of the ruins of which stood alone a pillar of stone, and the dim light of little clusters of mushrooms that had pushed through its cracks. Giovanni lifted themselves enough to see over the stones once more, to see if their absence had been noticed, then turned their back to the pillar.

"Alright... Forgive me, my Lady, I cannot take you," they whispered to themselves, and raised their hands in a motion unfamiliar; something they had not deigned to try since searching for Maria the months prior.

Immediately, a Door came to their hands, so soon that Giovanni had been surprised and stepped back. It stood still before them, quiet, but foreboding, a void in the air the length of their own height. Giovanni leaned nearer to it, and an ache overtook their head. They shut their eyes for a moment as the pain seemed to travel to their chest, and root as a nausea throughout.

This is abhorrent, Giovanni thought. What could possibly be through here?

They breathed unsteadily, and stepped through the unwelcoming blackness.

Music came prettily to their ears, the sound of a piano being played in a melody one might begin for their waltz, but it was distant. Upstairs it were, Giovanni realized, as they looked around their place of entrance. They turned, and dispelled the Door at their back with their hands in a motion of shutting, then ran their palms over their coat.

What felt like the frozen iron of a broken blade lanced at Giovanni's head for a long moment. They couldn't summon the will to breathe, for their hands had taken to cover their eyes, and the agony seemed as if it would never leave.

No, no, it is too soon, they thought, I'm sorry... They spoke to their mind as if their abilities themselves might hear their plea: Bear with me, please! I must do this. You must help me, I swear this is worthy. The ache subsided, slowly, then all at once it were gone, though Giovanni felt a lingering sickness. They reached out their hand, and it landed upon something like wood, and at last they freed their eyes.

Is this a palace? Or... perhaps it is only a castle? They had found themselves in a grand room, all of its walls made of a thick stone, and a hard floor laden with carpets of deep burgundies and golds. Their fanciful designs were unlike any patterning Giovanni had before seen. How nice... they thought as they bent to touch upon a rug that was an unusually bright yellow, and unmarred by the expected dirt of a resident's tread.

They stood, and looked to the walls adorned of tapestry in the images of stags and forests, passageways that led to castles upon high hills, or musicians with their instruments. Giovanni was charmed, for it reminded them of their own home in a way, though tapestry itself made up little of their papered walls whereas these were mounted upon stone. They walked to one that appeared to be of nobility in their gardens passing wooden buckets filled of grapes to one another, nearby was featured those of whom pressed the grapes to make their wine.

"My," they said aloud, their hand came to the fabric. "Beautiful...!" Their fingers found the tapestry's weave by its edge. It was delicate, and thinner than they had imagined such a grand piece to be, however it was light in the pinch of their fingers. From the floors above their head, the piano's music had faded. Giovanni dropped the tapestry, and looked upwards. It was silent, and they held their breathing still. A moment later, the music began in a new tune, and Giovanni continued on.