All Your Little Quirks • h.ravenclaw ✓

⚪six

"Do you visit the forest often?"

This is the first thing Helena asks as soon as Arven steps foot inside the dome created by the crackling fire. He halts for a moment, startled by her sudden appearance, before giving her a small nod in response. She doesn't say anything in reply, and instead takes his hand and leads him toward the large oak tree where he had found her the day before. She points a finger upward.

"Have you ever climbed a tree?"

He shakes his head. Why would he? The only reason he comes to the forest is for the darkness that shelters him from the evils of the world. Going up toward the light will kill that very purpose.

Helena looks very surprised at his response. She pushes him gently and veers him so that he faces the tree. "Let's get you up there then."

He immediately moves away, shaking his head and waving his hands fervently. But Helena stubbornly crosses her arms and gives him a stern look.

"You're from the village," she exclaims. "Aren't villagers supposed to be better climbers?"

He attempts to move away, but the girl holds him by the arms and pushes him back against the tree with surprising strength. He continues to struggle against her hold.

"Please?" she says, feigning a pleading tone. "It gets lonely up there. And I like your company."

Arven suddenly finds it hard to maintain eye contact with her. He drops his gaze and his body stops struggling. Her fingers loosen there hold on his arms and she smiles warmly. He notices her eyes look dark now, darker than he had seen before, given that she was silhouetted against the fire. When she sees that he isn't trying to run away, she says, "I won't let you fall. I promise."

Arven wants to ask her how she would do that, but he doesn't. If he were able to speak, he still wouldn't have questioned her. For some reason, he has grown an unfathomable amount of trust in her, and just as he would be willing to drown in her voice, he knows he would be willing to drown in whatever ocean she places in front of him. He knows she won't let him drown. Maybe he is naïve, silly, his judgement clouded by years of getting bullied by his fellow villagers that he is so willing to trust someone he has known for only a few days, just because she has shown him kindness. But a part of him says that Helena is trustworthy, that she would be by his side, at all times. Thus, he doesn't hesitate to put his foot down on the first crater he sees on the tree trunk as she guides him from behind.

"There," she says, her head over his shoulder so that he feels her hair tickling the side of his neck. "Yes, put your other foot there, and hold onto the trunk with your hands."

He begins to climb. It's easy at first, maybe because he knows that if he falls, he won't be hurt. The tree is curvy and crooked enough to allow him to hold on. But the higher he goes, the more his legs begin to tremble. He closes his eyes and allows his memory to guide him toward the thick, nearly horizontal branch that protrudes from amidst the canopies. Helena's encouraging words drift into his ears, somewhat calming him down.

He opens his eyes a crack when he feels that he is near enough to his destination. She calls out from below him.

"You're nearly there, Arven!" she says encouragingly, her accent curling his name in a way that makes him blush. "Reach your hand out and hold onto the branch."

He does as he is told. As he focuses all his attention in his hands, he simultaneously diverts it from his legs. His right foot suddenly slips back, and he hears a crack as a branch snaps beneath him. His hands fly out to to hold on to anything above him as his legs struggle to get used to the lack of control on his body, all control having been given to his arms, which feel awfully pressured. A strangled cry leaves his lips, and he barely hears Helena's voice from the ground.