Eye of the Beholder

Twenty-Six.

All throughout their lives, Eliana had always felt that Cytheas was the stronger of the two of them. Faced with any obstacle, any adversity in life, he had always been stoic, collected, and able to think calmly through the situation to find a solution. Her response had always been the more emotional one, driven by her heart's decisions. It made them a effective pair, one able to see both sides of any problem.

It was now that she was reminded of that dynamic once again, as Cytheas' only reaction to her seemingly world-altering words was a simple frown. Between his brows, a small divot formed as he took a step back, giving her space that she didn't quite realize she'd needed.

"What do you mean 'gone', Eli?" he questioned in a quiet voice.

Unsure of how to explain, Eliana clasped her hands together, nervously toying with her fingers. "I—" Her voice caught in her throat, the single word she'd spoken breaking with the threat of more tears. Eventually, all she could manage was a shake of her head.

Cytheas' face fell, and he stepped forward again, arms open to her. Without another word, she folded into his embrace, unable to control the sobs that shook her body. As she tucked her cheek into his chest, he murmured, "It's all right. We can speak more about this later."

"Now or later, it will not change what has happened."

His only response was a short sigh. They stood there for some time, only the sounds of his breathing and her broken sobs filling the tent. When Eliana next took a deep breath, he tightened his hold on her for a brief second before letting his arms drop. "You need to rest. It is still daylight, and we can discuss the whys and hows after you've slept."

"I do not know if sleep is something I can attain right now."

"Try? For me?" Cytheas pleaded, gesturing to his bed.

It was her turn to sigh, and she gently wiped the moisture from her cheeks. Lethargically, she shambled over to the bed, nearly collapsing atop the still-warm covers. He stood beside the cot, lifting up the furs for her to slide her legs underneath. Once she was thoroughly tucked in, he bent down and affectionately smoothed her hair back from her face.

Despite everything that had happened between them mere weeks ago—truly, it felt like eons longer than that—she knew that she could always count on him to simply be there for her. Even after all the drama, all the emotional confusion, Cytheas would never leave her.

For Illidan, she could not say the same. Not any longer. Her unerring trust in him had finally wavered, broken without warning, and her lower lip trembled as tears threatened to return once more. At the sight of her expression, Cytheas' shoulders drooped.

"Please try to rest, Eliana. I know it is likely the last thing on your mind at the moment, but . . . you, of all people, need to recover."

"I know," Eliana murmured. "Our people, my Sisters, need me to guide them, lead them on the battlefield like your soldiers need you. I cannot be a blubbering, emotional mess and yet—" The tears welling in her eyes finally slid down her cheeks. "—I cannot seem to stop crying."

"I cannot imagine how you feel right now, and I do not want to force you to talk about it if you are not ready. But it is not only the Sisterhood that needs you at your best, Eliana. We all do. I do. I cannot be worrying about you faltering in the middle of a fight."

Knowing he was right, a slight nod was the only response she could manage. Again, he rested his hand on the snow-white strands of her hair before straightening. "I will return soon. Sleep, no wallowing in your thoughts."

"I will try."

A hesitant smile teased at the corners of his lips. As she rolled over onto her side, turning away from the garishly bright light of the sun, she heard the tent flap lift and fall once more. Her eyes slid shut, the tears now falling onto the soft pillow beneath her head rather than down her cheeks.