AUTHOR’S NOTE: Okay, well I’m not delighted by this, but it’s not to bad. And considering no-one’s actually reading it, it doesn’t matter that much. I really should be in bed, but I figured that as this was meant to be posted 2 days ago, I really should get it done. This was written over the period of about a week, anyway. I cut it short at the end, as it was kind of going into writing for the sake of it, rather than writing because it is particularly good or crucial to the plotline.
As the door that guards the entrance to one of the three small sleeping-chambers swings shut in Titus’ wake, I whirl round to confront my brother, fixing upon him an icy glower with blazing eyes. He falters under the strain of my glare.
“Well…?” He trails off. I take this as an opportunity to fire my first question at him.
“Who is he?” I demand.
Xander blinks hesitantly at the ferocity of my tone.
“He…?”
“You know perfectly well who I am referring to.” I snap. There is no time for his foolish games.
Xander sighs.
“It is for the best, Lilith, honestly…”
“Who is he?” I repeat. I will get an answer out of him, even if it requires a torture rack. Fortunately, it appears that it will not be necessary. Weakening to my commands, Xander launches into a full-blown and informative reply.
“He trained as a monk, but was never more than a novice. He was thrown out of the monastery. That is all I know for fact about him. He is a good friend of mine, but very secretive and I have never has reason to pry into his private affairs or personal history. Why he was forced to leave the monastery, but sentenced to no punishment, I am unsure. I believe it was an incident concerning a woman, although that is mere speculation. That he is dedicated to the acquisition of knowledge, I am certain. That he joined the monastery purely for the ability to have access to the many books and documents stored there is not hard to guess. But Lilith, he is clever, and if there is anyone who can help you; it’s him. He has studied in detail religious teachings, and possesses knowledge a lesser man could never hope to acquire.”
I nod feebly, exhausted from my information extraction. Me: mistress of Satan, mother of a demon; me: the most ungodly, the most impure. Me traveling in the company of some devout, admittedly intelligent, but pious monk? That he was thrown out of the monastery before he took his final vows is cold comfort. A womanizer is in no way better than a monk, and a combination of both is worse. Besides, a monk need do no more than idly glance at a woman’s unveiled head to be severely reprimanded. A monk!
I elect not voice my worries, however; too weary of bullying people who are only attempting to help me, to say my thoughts aloud.
*
We have been riding for two hours now. The has risen to her full glory, resplendent in the pearly grey heavens, and all she looks down upon us bathed in the ethereal light, although the chill dawn air still penetrates my garments. I have abandoned gowns and feminine fancies altogether, opting in favour of a pair of Xander’s own leather trousers and a deep blue riding habit that was mine as a girl, instead. Its vibrant colour faded to a faint greyish shade, a feeble rendition of it’s former glory, but the familiar smells that mean laughter and happiness and youth, still linger.
Garaeli, who has, until now, been slumbering peacefully, stirs slightly in the shawl I have slung from one shoulder to form a miniature hammock, its azure eyes blinking at the sudden light the sunrays. I shift my position in an attempt to make it more comfortable, and allow the gentle rocking of horse’s gait to lull it back to sleep. The stormy-grey mare I am mounted upon follows Titus’ chestnut charger without objection, but I am less blind to he route he is taking us.
“There is only one place this path will lead us to.” I inform him accusingly.
He twists around in his saddle to face me, and, in spite of his passive, steady tone; I notice a dark, brooding look infiltrate his generally placid eyes.
“Indeed.” He replies, deliberately infuriating.
I say no more, my silence speaking more than my mouth ever could. To pass the time, I absently study the back of my escort’s head. A sudden beam of sunlight, poking its golden face around the heavy, grey curtain of cloud, sets fire to his hair, illuminating it like a halo of flames.
The path, winding up the sheer mountainside, framed on both sides by lush vegetation, is steep and rocky, and I am forced to adjust my seat in order to prevent my steed from stumbling. Beads of dew ornament blades of grass like jaunty caps upon maiden’s heads, shimmering in the watery sunshine with an unreal, iridescent sheen. As they tickle my mare’s forelegs with damp tendrils, I wonder at the natural beauty of this place, regardless of my unquenched appetite for answers.
I ponder some time upon the matter of questioning Titus for more information upon the matter of our destination. I can be very pressing when I wish it, but my pride restricts me. I childishly object to the idea of swallowing my dignity and engaging in rationalized and negotiated conversation; especially I despise the thought of sinking to such humiliating depravity in Titus’ haughty presence. And yet, in spite of my hatred and my doubts, I trust him. I trust him to lead me, and I trust him to protect me. I am trusting him, not only with my life, but with my child’s too. Because something tells me he will not betray me. That despite of his cold indifference he honestly can and will help me.
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Pomegranate Seeds ~ Editing in Progress
RandomLilith made a mistake. One that has left it's imprint forever. She can't change the past. But she can change the future. But will she be able to resist the urge to return to where she was before? With the help of a new friend - Titus - she travels t...
