Aramora

Chapter 14: The Heart

Beautiful artwork made by Randompeephere <3

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Once Naomi is sure Synthara isn't coming back anytime soon, she turns her downward gaze up towards Malachi with a hurt glare and a frown.

Why would he have said that? She gets that he doesn't like her, Lavern, and Nesosa all that much, but to go as far as to not care about her even a little bit? Did all those times they annoyed the hell out of each other mean nothing?

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Why did you say that?" she snaps and deepens her glare. Malachi looks over at her and returns the glare with one of his own. He sees the hurt and all-around betrayal in her eyes that he can't quite place.

"Say what?" he asks.

Naomi scoffs and shakes her head. "Oh, I don't know. Does 'she's not my friend' and 'no, I don't care' ring any bells?"

Malachi opens his mouth to speak, but she cuts him off. "I mean, I know I annoy you a lot. And yes, my vocabulary is kinda... unique. But I thought we were at least friends." She looks down and shifts to face away from him as best she can with the restraints.

He goes to speak again, but again she interrupts. "I guess Lavern was right after all about Aramora. No one cares about anything but themselves here and you're no exception. You're still just a grumpy old man who couldn't care less about what happens to those around you so long as you get whatever it is you want in the end."

As he goes to speak once more, she nearly cuts him off again, but he raises his voice enough to make her stop. "Can I speak now?" he growls.

Naomi shrugs and keeps her head turned away. "Sure. Why the fuck not," she mumbles begrudgingly.

Malachi sighs. "Nothing I do is without reason. I had hoped you'd have come to see that by now, but I've been proven wrong," he starts.

"I won't sit here and try to justify myself to you when you should be able to figure it out on your own. I will, however, say this much. In all the years I've lived, I've come to realize that a man's greatest weakness is the people and things he chooses to love and care for."

Naomi turns her attention back to him and her anger slightly lessens. "What do you mean?" she asks curiously. Malachi leans back, the dancing flames of the campfire cast an orange glow over his face and reflect in his eyes, accenting the soft creases in his pale skin.

"The moment you said you cared for me; I had a blade to my throat. This got you to tell the cat what she wanted to know. She exploited a weakness in you because you were too naïve to see what game she was playing." He looks at the table that contains all the items the spies had relieved from them. Specifically, he stares at his leather notebook that just slightly sits off the edge.

"But I cannot blame you, as I was just as naïve many years ago." He lets out a sad chuckle.

Naomi tilts her head and glances at the book. "You were? How?" she asks.

The old man sighs again and his eyes never leave the book. "I have told you of my friend... the one who went missing all those years ago. But... I never mentioned that his disappearance was partially my fault. No... mostly mine." He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

"...I don't even know if he's alive or not. Everyone keeps telling me to move on. To finally let go and stop carrying on as though I'm immortal, just waiting for the answers I've been seeking since I was young. But I won't stop until I know for sure." He looks at the book again, in the flame's reflection in his emerald eyes lies an untold story.