Fallon kept on walking as best she could. Toes pressed into the ground, the gentle burn of tendons stretching as she walked further. Eyes caught the glimmer of the glowing in the sky once more, her brow creasing into a line if only for a few ticks. The lacking brightness of the spring sun did help in allowing her eyes to take in the world – but in return the muted hues made everything fall into uncertainty. Distances for one thing became harder to decide upon, and the exact nature of such things. Trees became frightening shapes and creatures of nightmares, and the rolling expanse became the back of some mighty beast.
That is, if Fallon allowed her imagination to run away with her.
Zandelia’s words stung. They still did as she took in those deep breaths and stepped within the tree line. The fresh scent of dew caught in her nostrils, the trembling damp branches creaking in the breeze. Feet placed themselves up the floor, her eyes flickering up into the sky as she took the world in. Gloved fingers twitched and her features relaxed as she felt her fall into her element. So untainted and pure. Eyes blinked, her head tilting as she simply stopped and took the scene in. How long hand it been since she had last surrounded herself in such a scene? How long had it been since she felt the gentle whisper of oaken trees and fresh earth.
The fire burned brightly in her mind, roaring and dark, the deep bellowing smoke pluming out into the autumn sky.
She gave a subtle flinch, her entire form tensing for that brief moment. It felt a bit too real then, the crackling embers and strained lungs flickering in her mind. Fingers flexed around the bow, and then the gloved hand raised to brush the fringe from her eyes. No, she was here to find that inner calm and to relax her mind – not to chase memories that were better left buried. Like a lot of things really.
The mask of Dasoma was much like the hissing voice in the back of her mind. That niggling doubt, that dark energy that looked to smother and seep its way into control. A negative shade that she looked to constantly rebuff and defend against with words - a sparring partner of the tongue instead of blades. So, when her eyes flickered from the nature around them and the shrilling voice Zandelia had put on, her expression once more dipped down into nothing. There was no light, no spark, and no sheen of thought or consideration. It was an empty void.
It made sense in her mind – for this was a battle of words. Disassociation was the key here, she knew that the most. Turning her head forward once more she began her step. Slow and steady, the gentle press of the tips upon the ground, the creak of twigs as she walked. She did not respond at first, her eyes staring ahead and her ears twitching to the key words. Sarcasm did not go unmissed, nor did the over exaggeration of certain tones – eyes flickered down to the body language, the quick replay of words.
And thus the game of wits began.
”But I want to see your archery skills more than anything else,” the voice dropped into a purr, but the face remained neutral. Do not fall into the trap, do not give her an opening in which to allow her to exploit. To give her a place in means she can wriggle her way in deeper – and Fallon was not about to let that happen, ” Really? I hadn't heard that before, but of course, of course, you know all about it.”
Her hand at that point lifted, and came to rest over her brow as she looked on into the distance, ”Oh, I'm really flattered that you think I’m not a fool, but I actually still have a lot to learn and understand of the world.” With a hand placing itself at the top of the bow neck, the mercenary stood almost to attention – still and unmoving. ”A big strong man of the knights? I don’t know, did I?” her thoughts gave a tentative step around, a flicker as she remembered Markus for less than a beat and then promptly buried it once more. Give her no bait, ”Oh I did? Well how kind of you to tell me so.”
She found the beating rhythm of the words, the rise and fall of her pitches and dips into whispers. The rumbling undertones, the changed in pitch as she focused. She was looking for a way in, that flicker of an emotion and insecurity. The air was sucked in, slow and steady, the mind centring itself. The world fell behind nothingness, the scene around her blurred at the edges and disappeared behind swirling hues. It was just her and the voice, the ringing out and seeking words. For what exactly she was still unsure – but she was certain she would find out soon enough.
”Pleased to meet you again,” Fallon responded, ”Oh did you? Good thing I forgot you did. Am I mad? Well, if I am thank you for enlightening me once more as to how I am. My, without you I would be incredibly lost in my feelings.” Take it out, convert it, and pass it back. Keep the mind sharp and the tongue quick, ”I will keep that in mind for the next time I require it so.” Her mind twisted and convulsed, dribbling out words as she danced about the subject of knights once more.
”Alas, I must not have been a real knight then. A fake and a phony,” In her mind’s eye she circled Zandelia, a quick step close and then away. Probing and prodding, searching for what the woman truly wanted of her. A reaction of wrath? Anger? A backlash? Fallon was not about to play that game, just yet. There was another slow suck in of air, the mist seeping down to quell that inner fire. In and out, cool and calm. Self discipline and a steeled mind, ”Then again, I figured you my esteemed genius that you would have know what I did in the order. You are after all; incredibly insightful to whom I am with my inner workings.”
Suspiciously so.
Unwavering she continued her forward stare, barely a twitch of movement as Zandelia took aim at the targeted tree. Perhaps it was unusual that at that particular point the archery lessons begun to swirl around in her head. Of stance, of posture, of the correct method in which to extend the arm out to fire – and to keep the fletchings away from the face. Eyes darted off after the arrow, the distant scattering as it skidded across the ground somewhere in the foliage.
Lifting the bow from the ground she studied it for a few ticks, the fingers brushing away the thin layer of dirt. Respect the weapon, and the weapon will serve you well. The tips of the fingers were gently tracing along the bow string, eyes turning as she took in the proposed target. Eyes blinked, a moment of consideration as she took it in, and then once more was left alone in the dark mind with Dasoma, ”Took what way? To share what? I’m sorry, but I thought you where the one who already knew my inner machinations, so what is there to share?”
She felt the gaze press against her, the attempt to sink its very claws in to the flesh. A reaction, stimulation, a look for something petty. And it was something that Fallon was not about to just hand over to her. Words stung because they struck upon something – that feeling of being little more than a waste of time, a nothing and a chore. It was a backlash of her own self insecurities, that worthlessness that pinched at her very core.
The sniggering finally returned her to the reality. Fallon’s hand at that point came round, a gentle pat upon the woman’s head – an action instead of an emotion, there was nothing behind it at all. What was perhaps the disturbing factor was the unchanging, unflinching face that did not match the emotional tone of words. Her eyes locked with Zandelia, a gentle lean in close as she took it in. Lips broke into a curl, the face relaxing slightly as the noses barely brushed. For a moment, even a gentle blush traced its way across her cheeks as she held it. A low voice barely emerged, ”You’re trying too hard.”
In an instant she had snapped away, the fingers lightly pressing against Zandelia’s chest and pushing her back. The moment was left shattered. Pivoting round she simply shook her head, and once more set herself off between the skeletal trees.
That is, if Fallon allowed her imagination to run away with her.
Zandelia’s words stung. They still did as she took in those deep breaths and stepped within the tree line. The fresh scent of dew caught in her nostrils, the trembling damp branches creaking in the breeze. Feet placed themselves up the floor, her eyes flickering up into the sky as she took the world in. Gloved fingers twitched and her features relaxed as she felt her fall into her element. So untainted and pure. Eyes blinked, her head tilting as she simply stopped and took the scene in. How long hand it been since she had last surrounded herself in such a scene? How long had it been since she felt the gentle whisper of oaken trees and fresh earth.
The fire burned brightly in her mind, roaring and dark, the deep bellowing smoke pluming out into the autumn sky.
She gave a subtle flinch, her entire form tensing for that brief moment. It felt a bit too real then, the crackling embers and strained lungs flickering in her mind. Fingers flexed around the bow, and then the gloved hand raised to brush the fringe from her eyes. No, she was here to find that inner calm and to relax her mind – not to chase memories that were better left buried. Like a lot of things really.
The mask of Dasoma was much like the hissing voice in the back of her mind. That niggling doubt, that dark energy that looked to smother and seep its way into control. A negative shade that she looked to constantly rebuff and defend against with words - a sparring partner of the tongue instead of blades. So, when her eyes flickered from the nature around them and the shrilling voice Zandelia had put on, her expression once more dipped down into nothing. There was no light, no spark, and no sheen of thought or consideration. It was an empty void.
It made sense in her mind – for this was a battle of words. Disassociation was the key here, she knew that the most. Turning her head forward once more she began her step. Slow and steady, the gentle press of the tips upon the ground, the creak of twigs as she walked. She did not respond at first, her eyes staring ahead and her ears twitching to the key words. Sarcasm did not go unmissed, nor did the over exaggeration of certain tones – eyes flickered down to the body language, the quick replay of words.
And thus the game of wits began.
”But I want to see your archery skills more than anything else,” the voice dropped into a purr, but the face remained neutral. Do not fall into the trap, do not give her an opening in which to allow her to exploit. To give her a place in means she can wriggle her way in deeper – and Fallon was not about to let that happen, ” Really? I hadn't heard that before, but of course, of course, you know all about it.”
Her hand at that point lifted, and came to rest over her brow as she looked on into the distance, ”Oh, I'm really flattered that you think I’m not a fool, but I actually still have a lot to learn and understand of the world.” With a hand placing itself at the top of the bow neck, the mercenary stood almost to attention – still and unmoving. ”A big strong man of the knights? I don’t know, did I?” her thoughts gave a tentative step around, a flicker as she remembered Markus for less than a beat and then promptly buried it once more. Give her no bait, ”Oh I did? Well how kind of you to tell me so.”
She found the beating rhythm of the words, the rise and fall of her pitches and dips into whispers. The rumbling undertones, the changed in pitch as she focused. She was looking for a way in, that flicker of an emotion and insecurity. The air was sucked in, slow and steady, the mind centring itself. The world fell behind nothingness, the scene around her blurred at the edges and disappeared behind swirling hues. It was just her and the voice, the ringing out and seeking words. For what exactly she was still unsure – but she was certain she would find out soon enough.
”Pleased to meet you again,” Fallon responded, ”Oh did you? Good thing I forgot you did. Am I mad? Well, if I am thank you for enlightening me once more as to how I am. My, without you I would be incredibly lost in my feelings.” Take it out, convert it, and pass it back. Keep the mind sharp and the tongue quick, ”I will keep that in mind for the next time I require it so.” Her mind twisted and convulsed, dribbling out words as she danced about the subject of knights once more.
”Alas, I must not have been a real knight then. A fake and a phony,” In her mind’s eye she circled Zandelia, a quick step close and then away. Probing and prodding, searching for what the woman truly wanted of her. A reaction of wrath? Anger? A backlash? Fallon was not about to play that game, just yet. There was another slow suck in of air, the mist seeping down to quell that inner fire. In and out, cool and calm. Self discipline and a steeled mind, ”Then again, I figured you my esteemed genius that you would have know what I did in the order. You are after all; incredibly insightful to whom I am with my inner workings.”
Suspiciously so.
Unwavering she continued her forward stare, barely a twitch of movement as Zandelia took aim at the targeted tree. Perhaps it was unusual that at that particular point the archery lessons begun to swirl around in her head. Of stance, of posture, of the correct method in which to extend the arm out to fire – and to keep the fletchings away from the face. Eyes darted off after the arrow, the distant scattering as it skidded across the ground somewhere in the foliage.
Lifting the bow from the ground she studied it for a few ticks, the fingers brushing away the thin layer of dirt. Respect the weapon, and the weapon will serve you well. The tips of the fingers were gently tracing along the bow string, eyes turning as she took in the proposed target. Eyes blinked, a moment of consideration as she took it in, and then once more was left alone in the dark mind with Dasoma, ”Took what way? To share what? I’m sorry, but I thought you where the one who already knew my inner machinations, so what is there to share?”
She felt the gaze press against her, the attempt to sink its very claws in to the flesh. A reaction, stimulation, a look for something petty. And it was something that Fallon was not about to just hand over to her. Words stung because they struck upon something – that feeling of being little more than a waste of time, a nothing and a chore. It was a backlash of her own self insecurities, that worthlessness that pinched at her very core.
The sniggering finally returned her to the reality. Fallon’s hand at that point came round, a gentle pat upon the woman’s head – an action instead of an emotion, there was nothing behind it at all. What was perhaps the disturbing factor was the unchanging, unflinching face that did not match the emotional tone of words. Her eyes locked with Zandelia, a gentle lean in close as she took it in. Lips broke into a curl, the face relaxing slightly as the noses barely brushed. For a moment, even a gentle blush traced its way across her cheeks as she held it. A low voice barely emerged, ”You’re trying too hard.”
In an instant she had snapped away, the fingers lightly pressing against Zandelia’s chest and pushing her back. The moment was left shattered. Pivoting round she simply shook her head, and once more set herself off between the skeletal trees.