Memories and Shadows [Rune Factory 4]

Intellect

He loved so many girls, and I felt so... alone. He loved them—why not me? Wasn't I worthy of love, too? Wasn't I... wasn't I good enough? I felt torn up inside every time he greeted me. So happy to see him, so giddy with joy that he was talking to me, that his eyes were on me, and—for the moment, at least—on me alone. But also hurt that I was left out in the cold, that even though his eyes were on me in that moment, they soon would turn away and look at another with that tender affection in his eyes that I wanted for myself. I wanted... I wanted to feel the power that love would give me over him, but also to feel myself completely under his spell. I wanted to revel in the knowledge that either of us could exercise absolute control over the other, if we chose—and also that neither of us would abuse that power, because of our love. I wanted... not to be alone anymore.

Truly, love is a bittersweet thing.

**************

"Dolly, do you have a minute?" I heard him say, though I refused to look at him. I was busy in the clinic, arranging some flowers in a vase for my adopted mother, Nancy.

"If you have something to say, nobody's stopping you," I muttered, trying to persuade a recalcitrant stem of blue charm flowers to stay where I wanted it. "And it's Dolce, not Dolly," I added sharply.

"Dolce, then," he said, agreeable as always... to my annoyance. Why did he have to be so nice? What did he want from me, anyway? He had five girlfriends—why was he here talking to me instead of off having fun with one of them?

"I was hoping we could go do something, if you aren't busy?" he continued.

"As you can clearly see, I am. Sorry," I replied shortly.

"How about later, then? We can go for a walk, if you'd like."

"To what purpose? I dislike aimless wandering. I dislike anything pointless," I replied.

"Of course. Well, I hope it won't be pointless—certainly it won't be to me. However, if you want to be sure that your time is well spent, perhaps instead of a walk we could go gather some wool in the fields where the woolies graze, or perhaps forage for some medicinal herbs?"

I wavered—just that morning, Nancy had been sighing to Jones, her husband and the town's doctor, that their stores of herbs were getting terribly low. Finally I shrugged. "Fine. Come by at 18:00, and you can help me gather herbs for the clinic."

"Great," he said, and though I still refused to turn and look at him, I could feel him smiling. "I'll see you this evening, Dolce." Then he was gone.

I knew he was gone without turning, knew it without my obnoxious, ghostly stalker materializing to inform me of the fact. I knew it because I was keenly aware of his presence, and painfully aware of his absence, as if my very soul longed for him. And that was why I had purposely avoided his gaze—I couldn't afford to lose myself in those lilac depths again, to lose any more of myself without gaining something of him in exchange.

He arrived a few minutes before the hour and stood in the front room of the clinic, making small talk with Nancy while he waited for me. I was helping Jones with the last patient of the day—a tourist who had unfortunately eaten rather a lot more than he should have of Porcoline's excellent cooking. Soon, the patient staggered out the door, feeling somewhat better but still groaning and clutching his distended belly, and I tidied up the exam room and went out to the front.

Nancy was of mixed feelings about Piers. She loved him—everyone did, no one could help themselves, it seemed. His charisma was powerful, the strongest I'd ever felt, and as an elf, I'd lived a long life, despite my youthful appearance. However, she didn't think that it was right for him to have so many girlfriends. She'd glare at his back when he'd walk by, mumbling about greedy boys, then she'd sigh and smile, and look over at me with some chagrin, saying she supposed she couldn't blame them, really, and thank goodness I had more sense. She didn't know that her words felt like a twist of the knife to me, that I longed at times to be as frivolous and senseless of tomorrows as the others. But I hadn't been offered the chance.