Story Tale

Chapter 8

Grey is painted over the world above. It hides the open blue skies with heavy grey clouds. These clouds came rolling in at Sonic's departure - and Percival thinks that even the sky mourns at the withdrawal of such a light and vibrant friend, the knight of the wind.

Nimue's worry only grew. Blossoming into a weed impostering a flower. Though, did not voice this out anymore. Instead, she prepared chamomile tea for the two of them. She hummed to herself as she did this. A slow and melancholic tone that reminds Percival of a funeral march. Percival opened her mouth to speak and stopped when Nimue sets out two cups of tea and her teapot which is still steaming and scalding hot at it's touch. Her movements were like that of a puppet on strings.

Calmly she poured out the hot stream of tea into both teacups, set the pot down, and took up the cup closest to her as she settles into her seat across from the knight. The other cup went untouched by Percival.

"You're stalling." Percival muttered to herself, her words too soft for Nimue to hear. "What happened to 'time waits for none' my lady?"

She glared down at the teacup with vehemence in golden yellow eyes, ones that could compare to the brightest of fire embers, and she pursed her lips with thinly concealed ire. As if the innocent glass had been the cause of the shared misery of the knights and enchantresses. In the crevices of her heart, deep within, there is the cold grip of pain and of mourning in the emptiness. Sadness swirls in her blood and pumps through her veins from her cold, hurt heart. And Percival's claws dig harshly against her palms, sinking into flesh without easing up on herself. How she despises this feeling that made its way into her heart, wondering distantly in her mind how Lancelot has not lost himself within his grief when she herself is barely holding hers in.

It is an endless cycle of loss, sadness, and anger that she lives through. The more Percival thinks - the harder it is to conceal and push back at her emotions.

Being angry...fueling coals of resentment into her heart and building up the flames of fury is easier...It is better to be mad and use her anger as a weight to keep her feelings at bay. But she can't stop feeling angry. Like the embers from her flames became uncontrollable and the dancing fires mock her.

Nimue's hand came into her vision, breaking her out of her icy brooding, and Nimue wrapped her fingers around Percival's hand and firmly unraveled the knight's claws stabbing into her own hands. "Please, Percy, do not hurt yourself in anger." Nimue said. Her hands are warm from the tea, and are gentle in rubbing at where Percival's claws dug in.

"Take me to the reflection pool." Percival says as she pulls her hands away from the warmth of Nimue's in a stern and curt voice. She does not mean to come out as demanding or rude, especially to Nimue. She can't help but feel irritated at her conflicting and contrasting emotions get the best of her. "I apologize."

It hurts to see the plaguing sadness in her friends. No...that's not right...they're family. Either or - Percival feels powerless knowing how hard it is on them all. And she wishes Nimue would hurry up already so her thoughts will cease their constant drumming in her head.

"Don't apologize for feeling. And don't punish yourself for things out of your control." Then, Nimue pulls the teacups and kettle aside from the center of her stone table and she taps at the table with her index finger poking the dotted edges of a square.

Where her finger had touched the table, a glow takes place and stretches to meet the other glowing dots and the reflection pool forms from her enchanted watches like a hawk, careful of startling the rippling glow.

"Percival... I need you to listen to me. To make promise to me that what you see, you will not relay back to Lancelot? Gawain may know, but not yet Lancelot."