[Aquillar Hot Springs] Sleeping is Not an Option (Zandelia)

[Andalusia]

Sunberth - Aquillar Hot Springs 10th of Spring, 512 AV Andalusia sauntered down the grassy hills that surrounded most of Sunberth, the thick fabric of her beige-colored cape billowing behind her with every large step. Her eyes were fixated onto the clumps of dried dirt that hung onto the leather of her boots, unable to focus on the cheerily bright bathhouse that stood not so far away from her. The air was cool and fresh, the grass was just as saturated in green and lush under the sunlight as the many mornings she'd woken up to see it. Everything, including the cloudless blue sky, simply exuded joy and happiness. Even Sunberth looked relatively pleasant from this angle and distance. Andalusia grimaced, more in pain than in frustration, as she stopped in front of the bathhouse, eyes stinging with heat, simply begging to tear up. Last night was an absolute, horrendous mess of nightmares and disgustingly pessimistic thoughts. She tossed and turned beneath her bedroll, the warmth that filled the thick mix of furs choking her and making her break into an uncomfortable sweat, instead of keeping her delightfully safe and warm from the cold nights in the forest. Her Luvanor, Dante, stayed up with her, restlessly whimpering and nudging her with his paws. Her past crept up into her mind, haunted her, followed her as she ran away from it and chased what was left of her happiness and security. She thought of living alone, of staying alone, of dying alone, and the tears would simply not cease to flow. She needed somebody to speak to, to be with, and she scolded herself silently for not finding Dante and her horse, Howlite, enough. But truly, there was a difference between human and animal companionship; a very, very huge one. Every inch of her felt frozen solid whenever she'd attempt to step out of her bedroll, or even simply to sit up. But when she stayed inside, she felt toasted and burned, her nightgown sodden in her sweat. When she'd finally found the strength - or better yet, the exhaustion - to finally sleep, she was dragged into a reverie of darkness and solitude. Her father, her grandfather's dear old friend, and most importantly, her mother. Her memories swirled into a dizzying, vertiginous mess as she clutched her head. Needless to say, she woke up with dark rings underneath her eyes, panting, bathed in sweat and with a terrible migraine. There was nothing else to it. She simply had to get away from the familiarity of her campsite, and the worried stares of both Howlite and Dante. She could run to the tent if there was trouble, she knew, and Dante and Howlite would do just find guarding the area. The amount of reassuring things she continued to feed her brain was not enough to reassure her shivering body that the worst was over. But was it really? "Greetings!" came the kind, welcoming old lady of the Hot Springs, Natlana. "G-Greetings," she tried, but it came out a little too cold and solemn. She was quite shaken from the woman's sudden exclamation. The negative thoughts and ideas continued to bounce around the insides of her head, distracting her from reality. She wasn't sure where she was looking, where she was stepping, or what she was doing. "Common... Common spring," she muttered, slowly making her way closer to the beaming old woman, her hands gingerly taking off her backpack. She wondered what the dear old Natlana thought of her, seeing her trembling fingers fish through her backpack, her face even more pale and ghostly than usual, perhaps even sickly, the strands of her hair damp, limp, and stringy. She attempted to soften her eyes a little and lighten the forlorn expression on her face, but it proved to be far too difficult in the status she was in. She was in mid-thought about how Natlana was going to react about her sickly stature when she realized that her money pouch was incredibly, incredibly empty.

[Zandelia]

It had been a very difficult week for Zandelia, the days seeming to pile upon her trial after trial, as if some overbearing scheme was deciding just how far it could push her before she truly broke – and this time for the last time. She knew that she was fast approaching the point where she would be tested and measured, where she would be forced to make the decision to, either stand up and fight back, or to dwindle into obscurity and madness. It was for these reasons, a few amongst many indeed that she had decided to take a break from her day to day regime and try to rejuvenate herself. Sorely in need of a reprieve she had decided to seek out that oasis of peace and tranquility on the very edge of Sunberth’s official domain – the hot springs. They had always been a source of succor and relaxation for her over the years.

And oh how I have missed them she thought to herself as she crested the hill, the grass blades before her dancing in the winds, and gave a truly genuine smile upon seeing the building ahead of her.

She took her time as she meandered her way down to the well-trodden path that led upwards, itself a pattern of aimless wandering from side to side, as if setting the mood before one had even entered the springs proper. Whether it was accidental in construction, or had been made that way n purpose perhaps, Zandelia did not know and could not bring herself to investigate. To do so would perhaps sully the location with cynicism it did not deserve. In any case she let herself relax as she approached, muscles she did not were in trouble complaining to her as she did so. There was no danger here, no gangs and slavers to watch or cutpurses to defend against. It was in many ways the flip side of the coin that was Sunberth. As she passed the threshold she was greeted by the same battle-axe of a woman whom her watched over the establishment, her husband helping her of course, for decades now she assumed.

“Well, looks like you have me back again, regular customer and all that. Just one coming in today I’m afraid, no large groups for a while I think” she told the aged woman as she slapped her money down upon the counter.

It was then that she noticed the poor girl beside her fully, hair matted and muddy and a look of pure depression upon her countenance. She was indeed deprived Zandelia thought, clothing dirty and grubby and tears almost welling up from inside to stream down her face. Charity was a concept much maligned in Sunberth, and Zandelia agreed with such a sentiment on principle. If one gave out free items in her city then hundreds would peck the giver to death before long. Still, there was something undeniably cruel in denying a small woman the opportunity to at least clean themselves when they appeared so beaten and disheveled. She cursed the conscience that would one day kill her and placed some more coins upon the counter.

“And let that one in too why not> Needs a damned good wash I think” she sighed as she took her towel and made her way into the hot springs proper and to the changing areas.

She did not wait to get there before she was removing her items of clothing. As proven to all she lacked any sense of true modesty when it came to her body. It had been used and abused so many times now over the years that she thought little of showing it to anyone interested enough to steal a peek. It was a slow process, removing first her Shadowsilk Robes and her weaponry, moving onto the armor and then, finally, her normal clothing underneath. This she stuffed into one of the wooden boxes for belongings and made sure it was very much secure before turning around. It was then that she had seen that the girl had followed her, unknowingly.

Zandelia shrugged and made her way to one of the private hot tubs, there to slip into the water and allow the warmth to work its magic upon her battered and bruised form.

[Andalusia]

Andalusia was far too shocked to notice the other woman come in, her jovial acknowledgement to Natlana leaving her to assume that she was a regular customer. She sighed and stared down at her little pouch, wondering why she hadn't gone into the city to sell her latest pelts and meats; it was probably the nightmares. She listened in on their little conversation, finding the woman speaking more so than the old lady. Slowly, shifting her weight from her left foot to the right, she prepared to turn around and leave silently, when the woman put down an additional amount of coin for her sake. “And let that one in too why not - Needs a damned good wash I think,” the woman said casually, and then made her way into the changing rooms. Andalusia turned and stared at her retreating form with wide, disbelieving eyes. She wasn't quite sure what to make of it. "Does she think I'm homeless?" the insecurity of being misunderstood crept up on her, making her stomach lurch a little. "Do I really look that filthy?" she looked at her skin, her clothing, and her body. Aside from the bits of dirt and stray pieces of grass and leaves, she didn't look too disgusting. But she did. "It has been a while," she mused to herself. She shyly followed the woman into the changing rooms and mirrored her actions, removing her clothing and stashing it neatly into one of the storage chests. It was a little difficult for her, at first, she'd never stripped down in such a public place, or so she considered. She wasn't quite sure how to react around the other woman, who seemed unfazed about what she had done. Gingerly, she stepped into the deliciously hot, steaming water and stifled a relaxed sigh. The water was exquisite, tearing away all sorts of tangled frustrations and disgusting thoughts. She dipped her head in gently, her hair coming out smooth and straight. It was simply revitalizing. She busied herself by cleaning the mud and grass from her body, massaging the muscles on her arms and legs, delighting in the way they relaxed slowly. The hot springs were, without a doubt, the place for one to unwind. When she'd finally finished cleaning and massaging herself, she sat with her back against the edge, emerald-green eyes staring up at the ceiling, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "I should thank her," she argued with herself silently, willing away the drowsiness she felt in the heat of the spring as it embraced her. She knew she had to, it was the right thing to do. But she couldn't bring herself to utter even a word around the other woman, no matter how hard she tried to prepare herself to speak by clearing her throat and opening her mouth just a little bit. Andalusia shifted uncomfortably in place and brought her head down to face her. "It's now or never," she sighed, easing the tension in her chest. "Th-thank you," she muttered, a barely audible, low, monotonous murmur that was only heightened quite a bit in sound by the way her words bounced off the walls. She wanted to look away from the woman, but plucked up all the courage she had, and simply continued to look her in the eyes with a blank, stoic expression. It's never been easy for her to be cordial.

[Zandelia]

Moments passed as if they were years for Zandelia, shoulder deep in water warm enough to fully penetrate her being, which put its liquid contents above most of the men in Sunberth in her own meager estimation. Still, she closed her eyes and let it melt away her numbed body, pummeling her with a constant barrage of heat until even the most staunchly entrenched chills could not withstand its assault. It was a strange feeling, feeling your bones becoming a different temperature to the rest of your body, and one she had missed. Eventually, as time had often proved, even her very bones were warmed, their solid forms transforming her into little more than a rag doll, in terms of tension. It was marvelous for Zandelia, to finally relax and have no need for intrigue and deception.

For just one day I will rest, one miserable day. Then, the work must continue, always continue she thought to herself as she groaned, a guttural sound in her throat, enjoying the pleasures of the water.

The darkness did not truly leave her however, never really dissipated into thin air and was forgotten about. The specter of her past haunted her still, even within the most still and peaceful place in Sunberth. Garret’s words, their fateful meeting, was still fresh within her mind – the knowledge that she had been betrayed most foully by the one whom she thought had loved her most of all, her father. No, such thoughts were impossible to ignore, nor push away, and infected her every waking moment. Sat in the warm waters now, she found her blood running colder once more, anger and steely cold vengeance coursing through her embittered veins. It was only then that she noticed she was not alone in her turmoil, a young girl’s voice creeping into her ears and alerting her to her presence.

Damn! I must learn to keep track of the surroundings. It will be a dangerous game I will be playing soon she berated herself as she sat p a bit straighter and opened her single green eye to take in the one whom had addressed her so timidly. It was the lass she had paid entry for, now covered with water and looking slightly better for that fact.

“I wouldn’t mention it to anyone lass, charity is a weakness in my line of work,” she spoke back, her words level and non-committal for now, “besides it pays to be clean. You should take better care of yourself, before some decides to do it for you” she finished, a flash of her old life rippling through her and infecting her tone with a slightly bitter resonance.

She looked over the girl a little, taking in her form and her countenance with a practiced eye. She was not overly young, but neither was she experienced enough to seemingly know the benefits of decent hygiene. It was either that or the fact she didn’t care enough to do anything about it all too often, which seemed infinitely more intriguing to Zandelia. Pretty would be a word Zandelia would use to describe the youngling, but not entirely filled out enough to considered classically beautiful – but then months at a time of hard living could drastically change even the most voluptuous of figures, this she knew well. It paid not to make assumptions in Zandelia’s line of work, but some things were as plain as the scar on her own face – the girl was miserable about something. It was not so easily noticeable, but she had the tired appearance that Zandelia knew well enough. Dark circles and lines that should not exist were indications of sleepless nights, or disturbed sleep another good possibility.

Well, I’m stuck here for the day, so might as well get some practice in whilst I’m here she thought, all ideas of having no training at all gone, scattered to the four winds.

“What were you doing out there, looking like you’d been dragged through the dirt? Set upon by some rough one’s eh? I know the sort. Kind that take all of your things, then come back and take your pride too” she shook her head, the question designed to lead the conversation into more intelligible areas.

[Andalusia]

“I wouldn’t mention it to anyone lass, charity is a weakness in my line of work,” she heard the woman reply, a little more soothing than she'd expected. It must've been the heat of the water and the steam talking, but everything felt, looked, and sounded serene to Andalusia. The hot springs smelled so fresh, revitalizing, almost as if you were born into a different world as soon as you set foot into the water, your mind at ease and as well as your body. The salty tears were gone, and so was the dirt and soot. She let her body stretch out a little more, and frowned a little at the sight of her thinness. She was close enough to be called emaciated, and if it weren't for her chest and muscles, she'd probably fit the bill perfectly already. She wasn't eating right, nor sleeping right, but before she could begin to think about it, the woman spoke once more, “What were you doing out there, looking like you’d been dragged through the dirt? Set upon by some rough one’s eh? I know the sort. Kind that take all of your things, then come back and take your pride too.” The brief silence that filled the air before her first remark led her to assume that it would stay that way, but apparently not. She must've looked especially miserable if she were worth such a question. She looked at the woman for a moment, and then lowered her eyes to stifle a small smile. The littlest things people say make her smile, but she can't help it, it doesn't happen often, or even at all. "It isn't... a-anybody..." she trailed off as she spoke, sounding like she'd just finished crying, even if she had already stopped a half hour ago. "Really... It isn't, it's just, I haven't been well," she lifted her eyes up to the ceiling, seemingly gesturing to it, yet she tapped her temple with the tips of her fingers, indicating that it was her thoughts. "My mind, it's just, incredibly murky..." she sighed in exasperation, legs curling to her chest, hands entwining around them to keep them there. "P-Please, don't get me wrong, I'm... not crazy," she looked up to face the woman once more, scanning her face for anything. Would she really be interested in listening to her? She seemed tough, strong, and iron-fisted, yet she seemed to also keep her kindness intact. Those traits led her to feel like she were trustworthy. "I just, didn't have a very good past, th-that's... a-all," she mumbled, her voice growing softer and softer. She didn't like it one bit; being completely vulnerable and weak-looking in a situation where she'd prepared so much to look strong and unbreakable. Nightmares have never failed to weaken her resolve, ever. And here she was, prepared to open up to a stranger if she'd let her, and perhaps that was the answer to all these nightmares; she needed to let them out. But then returns the question that ran along the front of her brain as she spoke to the woman - would she listen?

[Zandelia]

Zandelia’s eyebrows raised slightly at the young girl’s words, her mind beginning to creep about the suspicion that she was indeed sitting in a warm pool of water with someone not entirely possessed of their full mental faculties. She was not rash in her assumption, willing to give the other female the benefit of the doubt, for now at least. However, in her experience, it was usually the truly mentally challenged that most often claimed that they were not of that inclination. She was wary now, her guard very much ready to snap upwards in case of random assault. She made no movement outwardly, instead choosing to remain poised and not give any physical manifestation of the fact – she did not wish to provoke any reactions. She considered her situation carefully, the fact that she could be moments from conflict heavy upon her mind.

Still, she does not seem overly threatening, and if she does attack she looks not much to handle. At least it’s more interesting to see what she is really like than sitting by myself she thought to herself as she tilted her head slightly, looking her naked and submerged body up and down.

Zandelia decided to set about some investigation as to the woman’s stability in a stealthy manner, through the use of her powers of advanced perception – the name of the talent she knew not in the least. She relaxed, breathing slowly as she summoned up the vestiges of the power within her body, letting it flow and move upwards and into her eyes, her vision the strongest medium by far for the practice. It was a good feeling, a powerful feeling, but one she tried not to give in t all too often. She had already experienced a number of times when the talent had incapacitated her and to do so whilst sat in water would be suicidal. Still, it was a slow and demanding process, the forcing of her perception into a realm beyond the natural. It always took its toll on her in some way or another, but it was better to know an enemy than to not.

“Well lass, I wouldn’t presume as much as to tell you that you were insane, the whole world is insane in one way or another” she forced the words through her throat so as not to arouse any suspicion in the interim.

It was then that the aura began to swim into focus around the girl, almost rippling out from her as Zandelia’s perception finally became able to notice it in detail. It was not the largest she had seen, though whether age or strength of character was a factor in size she was still unsure of. The colors that swirled within the range f it, however, gave her pause for thought. She has seen anger, irritability and even love before. It was hard to point to one hue and know precisely what it pertained to, but she was pretty sure that was what she had for reference of knowledge. What she saw whipping around the girl was something she had not seen before, something that did not help her in the least, for now. It was time to try and pinpoint what the darkened purples and mundane grey colors signified. Still, she let moments pass as she made sure she was stable enough to indulge in conversation – she was no fool, not after last time.

I have a new puzzle and now the ability to fit the key to the lock. Let’s try one and see if it turns she thought tentatively as she licked her lips a little in concentration.

“That is a vague connection you give me girl, everyone has a bad past in this town,” she spoke slowly, in measured and controlled tones, “I know no one who hasn’t be robbed, beaten or cheated. If it’s any of those I’d say get over it and come back stronger. If that’s enough to break you then Sunberth isn’t for you” she managed to get out as the precarious balance between power and destruction balanced upon a knife’s edge.

It wasn’t much of a leading question, but her concentration was split now and she was reacting more upon instinct than anything else. It might be enough to get her talking, it might not have been. She had other questions of course, however she dared not risk over-complicating a situation without need.

[Andalusia]

OOCI'm very sorry for not replying for some time. I got a little preoccupied for a while!

"R-Really," she said softly, eyes rising up to look at the woman, "I haven't been robbed, beaten, or cheated." Andalusia gave her a soft, understanding smile. She felt so calm in the hot springs, that it was almost as if the warm, steaming waters had melted off all her insecurities. "Neither am I insane," she added with a chuckle. She wondered - would being honest with this woman be a good idea? The information wouldn't destroy either one of them, and may even provide a connection for them to become friends. She took a deep breath and then sighed. It was now or never, and perhaps the weight on her chest may even lighten if she confessed to her problems.

"I tend to... I tend to have nightmares, from time to time, related to my past. C-Coupled with bouts of anxiety and-and, insecurities..." she wanted to huddle her legs closer to her chest, bury her face in her knees, and grumble. She felt a blush creep up her cheeks, but assumed it was from the heat. Her past wasn't really something to be embarrassed about. There was a pregnant pause, and for a moment, Andalusia's mind wandered. Why weren't there others coming to the hot springs? Work was the only excuse she could think of. She quickly returned to reality and turned to the woman once more."I believe that... a child should be exposed to the, the harshness of the world as e-early as possible," she began, eyes locking with Zandelia's. "But, there are some things that they shouldn't, sh-shouldn't ever see," she faltered, her eyes shifting, "at least, n-not until they're older, more mature."

"I watched death take my loved ones away from me, one by one," she murmured, "a-and I know, many others have b-been able to stay st-strong even after seeing a l-lot of their, their loved ones pass away, die, be k-killed," she gulped, nervousness accumulating and locking up her throat. She took another deep breath. "B-But I... I was so young, and so fragile, so... so inexperienced. And, it was so slow, s-so gradual, the death..." she wanted to shut her eyes and block everything out. It was so painful to talk about, to hear herself say it. But she asked, she seemed to be listening, there was no stopping herself now. "P-Please, don't assume that I'm always like this," she said apologetically, "normally I'm fine, but when I have those nights..." she trailed off once more.

The fear of being misjudged or misunderstood flooded in her and made her stomach churn. Her face burned with an embarrassed blush, and she felt vulnerable and weak. This woman looked strong and sturdy, and she wished she could've met her when she was in a different state, a much more stable one. "My father meant the world to me. H-He raised me when my mother died, a-after giving birth to me," she gazed off into the distance, relishing the heat in her face, using it as her driving force to continue speaking. "We left Syliras to live in Zeltiva, with my grandfather's friend, wh-who was like an u-uncle to me," she added. The words spilled out so quickly and fluidly, no longer trembling, although occasionally stuttering. When she spoke of her family, she spoke with passion and love. They were the world to her. "They taught me everything," she smiled softly, "I read my uncle's books, m-my father taught me archery, horseback riding, self-defense... I learned so much!" her voice rose and her face lit up, her eyes twinkling with excitement at the memories. "I wasn't allowed outside, b-but it was okay, because I-I always had company. They were always with me, I was never alone, not even once."

And then, her smile faded and her face darkened once more. "My father got sick," she paused, her eyes lowering, "he got sick, a-and no matter... no matter wh-what we did, h-he just got w-worse and worse." She took yet another deep breath, and sighed loudly. The pain returned, and it felt twice as brutal as before. "I-I spent all my time, next to him, w-with, with him. B-But because of that, I watched him slip aw-away from me, from u-us, and..." she stopped herself. The tears begged to come out, but she gently splashed her face with spring water. She wasn't going to cry in public, and especially not in front of this woman. "I-It was a horrible sight, to s-see him die before my very eyes," she said. Tears welled up quite a bit, but it fell down her cheeks along with the droplets of spring water, leaving off her chin unnoticed.

[Zandelia]

As Zandelia watched the colours flicker throughout Andalusia’s aura she could not help but feel a number of twinges of sorrow within her heart, their sharp stabs of ancient pain accompanying the girl’s words all too easily. As the tale was woven Zandelia kept her single eye focused upon the two feet of aura surrounding the girl, watching it fluctuate in both strength and width with her words. She had not taken much time to observe such a phenomenon before, her time and focus much more concentrated upon the colours, their meanings and how they could prove to be useful in her line of desires. In her current situation it became all too easy for Zandelia to distinguish one colour from another, the emotions they represented and was intrigued to notice how they seemed to ‘spark’ against each other in conflict, discharging fragments across her entire aura as the inner-turmoil raged.

Interesting, the way her colours reflect her state of mind. But not in the usual way, the shifting of hues and so on. Instead, her inner conflict and perhaps even her memories are causing them to almost destroy each other in their war she thought to herself as the warm waters permeated her body and Andalusia tried to warm her heart.

She watched the girl’s aura fade in and out, smaller and larger, before it settled into its original and semi-dampened form – duller than the average person to Zandelia’s eye. Zandelia looked down at the water in front of her, her mind thinking through what she had been told, assessing the emotions it evoked within her own heart, the memories that it brought forth and battered into her skull. She closed her eyes hard, blocking out with enforced darkness the spectres of her past. She sighed to herself out loud before tilting her head and extending her arm to pull the girl closer to her. It was strange to feel her flesh upon her own and feel no sense of erotic arousal, instead only feeling their combined warmth and the sinewy limbs almost wrapped around her – as if seeking comfort. She let the energy gathered into her eye seep back into her body once more, the pleasant sense of power receding as she let simple closeness take its place.

“I am sorry to hear of your loss girl,” Zandelia began, forcing her voice to be as soothing as she could make it, “but at least they are at peace. Life is fraught with pain and suffering, but death is quiet and tranquil. They can rest now” she finished as she all but cuddled the girl.

“But it does not mean that you should break, never. You have suffered much, but that can be used to make you stronger lass, remember that” she continued as she wondered how best to spend the time now, with words or reflection.

And to think todays was supposed to be a relaxation for me, instead of it being spent as a counsellor she mused momentarily before opting for words, silence being far too claustrophobic at that precise moment.

“I’ll tell you a story, a story about a girl much like you. She had a father and mother and lived in happiness for the beginning of her life. Then the slavers came, killing her mother and also her father – she thought,” she began to weave her own tale for the girl, “and the girl hid but was found. Taken to the block she was and sold to a man with money and power. He was nice at first, a nice master. He gave her toys and treats and pretty clothes. Then the girl grew into a woman and was used – again and again in unspeakable ways” she whispered now, the words seeming to open old wounds and cleaning them slowly.

“She fought back, did not break. She suffered much but refused to bend knee. Beaten, bloodied and wounded she on in the end and freed herself. After everything she had been through her mind should have shattered, her body should have died. But it didn’t. She lived in the end” she finished, unaware she was stroking Andalusia’s shoulder now.

“The point is lass, never let tragedies destroy you. The day you let it happen there is no going back. I have seen strong people refuse to eat and drink, wasting away because they were broken. Your spirit is all you have, and it might hurt sometimes, but don’t let it be extinguished” she sighed, closing her eye now and merely enjoying the warm waters as their bodies curled together in cathartic relaxation.

[Andalusia]

There was something about the way she looked at her, almost as if she heard more than just Andalusia's story; it was apparent that the woman saw more than just a girl pained by her past, but seemed to see herself as well. It was either that, or she saw a ghost sitting next to the grieving girl. She held her breath as she willed the pain to subside along with her tears, only to breathe in sharply as she felt a hand snake around her arm, pulling her into a loose embrace. Her eyes widened as they stared into the murky waters, hued differently due to the spring's natural, soothing minerals. She could make out her pale little body, stiff in shock and nervousness next to the other woman's, who was completely calm as she began to cuddle her.

“I am sorry to hear of your loss girl,” the woman said soothingly, her voice as gentle as the steam that caressed Andalusia's tired eyes, “but at least they are at peace. Life is fraught with pain and suffering, but death is quiet and tranquil. They can rest now.” The raven-haired girl nodded slowly. Her throat was locked and her lips were zipped as her mind went black, unable to find the words or even the will to speak them. “But it does not mean that you should break, never. You have suffered much, but that can be used to make you stronger lass, remember that.” Her words of encouragement were strange, as they were coming from the mouth of a stranger, but a stranger who undoubtedly could identify. Andalusia had calmed down some, but a tinge of sadness continued to circulate throughout her entire body, the tension that could only be expected from the sudden act of affectiong remained around her arms and legs. "I'll tell you a story, a story about a girl much like you," the woman began, and somehow Andalusia assumed that she was referring to her own story.

And as the tale poured out of her mouth it seemed so familiar to her, as if it were overused, or perhaps, experienced. Andalusia's muscles loosened as she listened in on her story, the amount of empathy she felt for her grew by the second. The woman began to stroke her shoulder gently now, but instead of shying away, she gingerly snuggled in closer. For once in her life, despite the woman being far too young to be so, she felt as if she were in the arms of a mother. Her own mother. Her mouth and her tear ducts could not decide on an emotion to evoke, and so she settled with shutting her eyes and resting her head on the woman's shoulder. She was surprised that the woman spoke with such a firm, unwavering tone, but it only proved even more that she was a very strong person. “The point is lass, never let tragedies destroy you. The day you let it happen there is no going back. I have seen strong people refuse to eat and drink, wasting away because they were broken. Your spirit is all you have, and it might hurt sometimes, but don’t let it be extinguished,” she said lastly, her voice slowly reducing into a whisper, as if she were falling asleep. "I-I won't," Andalusia murmured, as she opened her eyes to gaze up at the woman. Her eyes were shut now, her expression was soft, peaceful, and relaxed. Andalusia lowered her gaze and kept her head rested upon the woman's shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered, as her eyes fluttered closed once more.

[Zandelia]

Zandelia let her story unfold, the telling not requiring any real effort on her part for it was something that she experienced and re-experienced on an all too frequent basis. The truth was that such event would never leave her identity, never separate and dissipate into nothingness. They were too ingrained and inter-connected with emotions to do anything of the sort. Zandelia was a hard woman, for the most part, and never really took to coddling those with misfortunes due to her having so many herself and still standing her ground amongst her enemies despite the fact. Still, she knew well enough when someone was close to breaking point, a stage that if sped past would never be easy to come back from – that she understood well indeed. So, on this one occasion, she offered a shoulder to rest upon for a while.

Not that it is entirely selfless and compassionate. She could be of use to me, a tough little urchin indeed. It seems I weave webs so often I cannot stop she mused with a tinge of sadness that was quickly extinguished by her growing pragmatism. Garret had warned her but she knew his words to be hollow, a pale reflection of reality. She needed to be stone, to use where and regret it not at all.

She would not be her father, never would she stoop that low. However, not using his methods where they held merit would have been foolish in the extreme. She would wage war against him, and pawns would die if necessary. No, Garret was wrong in that matter. She stood no chance of winning the game if she was not willing to sacrifice enough to do so.

“Do not mention it, really. I do not want scores of others looking for comfort from me. It would ruin any reputation I have garnered in a few bells” she smiled slightly at the words as she closed her eyes and let the energies within her eye fade away, back into her body where it had come from. A few deep breaths later she had control once again, as if nothing untoward had occurred.

Her ability in reading other’s auras was useless now she had found at any rate. What information she could try to garner would merely be limited by the fact that Andalusia was too close, enveloped and mixed with her own. She had noted with interest how, as they grew closer, instead of remaining two separate entities their auras had marginally fused – as if feeding off of each other. The girl’s aura had calmed a little as far as Zandelia had been able to make out though, the dark and sickly colors growing slightly lighter in the wake f her words and physical proximity. She suspected that it would not last long, though she hoped that she had managed to affect some changes within in it for the better. She could not tell for certain however.

“If you need help then you could always come and spend some time with me Andalusia,” Zandelia ventured into the offer slowly, carefully calculating how much to say and how quickly to say it, “,I always have need for smart and observant people n my workings. I may not be able to heal you, or even help you much at all. Still, you would learn things that might make you stronger, more able to fight off the darker parts of life” she continued, phrasing things slowly.

“The offer is there if you want it girl, and a better offer I would wager would be hard to find indeed” she finished, letting it hang in the air between the two of them for Andalusia to think about as the hot springs whirled around their entwined bodies, healing in its own small way.