The Outlanders

Child of Two Worlds

WILLOW

"Rejecting it? What does that even mean?" Lokasenna's usually calm and comedic demeanor has taken a sudden turn. I can't even completely blame him for the way that he feels, because an answer hasn't been given to them. Instead, Ischell the head priest has just warned them not to touch Kasper's body.

I'd like to provide an answer, but I can't seem to draw any words of comfort for any of them. In fact, telling them that their friend was rejecting the blessing was already more than enough of skirting around the reality of it. Kasper simply isn't worthy of Othera's blessing.

"You said this happened before?" The princess tries her hand at understanding the situation.

Ischell walks up. "Yes." I don't suppose he'd be the best individual in the eyes of the Outlanders. Just for the fact that he has a tendency to speak less, and when he does, it's usually as cryptic as the prophecy itself. He spares me a look, and I know what it means. It speaks volumes louder than any voice that travels within the caverns of the mountain. Kasper's body has stopped moving. He's dead. It's a simple as that, but as complex as the goddess of life can ever get. They're confused as to why he's no longer convulsing, why he's not breathing. I don't want to be the one to tell them, but the head priest surely won't. "But Othera chooses those she deems worthy of her gifts. And casts away those that she does not."

"In other words?" Mars is angry. He doesn't even need to speak for me to know that he is. The eyes are powerful windows to understand the mind. His is full of rage. Whether it stems from a place that could be understood, or a place that is unfounded, one thing is for certain; Kasper is it's source. At least in this case. Every other instance is still but a mystery to me.

There's no words that give Marston an answer to the fate of his best friend, however Jacqueline, who's spent a good portion of the time steadily watching Kasper breathe, has grown oddly quiet. He looks to me for verbal confirmation, but I find myself lacking in having the heart to do it.

"No." His voice cracks, yet what I hear is the breaking of his heart. I feel for him, I do. However he needs to understand that reality is often harsher than it seems. "No!" The solid rock beneath his feet visually cracks as he leaps toward me. Not a single ounce of in my system can ever blame him for wanting to hurt me. He sees this as my fault. I suppose in a way, it is. Large powerful hands find themselves wrapped around my neck. If he wanted, he could simply tighten his grip and end my life. Such is the gift of Othera.

"I'm sorry Marston." I don't show him any sign of fear as I speak, in it's place, I show empathy. I don't fight back, for I believe that's the last thing he needs.

His palms grow sweaty, and the blood on his features dry. "Melidrax." He corrects me. "And you're not really sorry, don't fucking pretend like you care."

"Mars." Jacqueline interrupts, a hand over his wrist. "Don't." She knows. She can see exactly how powerful her significant other has become.

"I understand it's not easy, Melidrax." My voice travels as light and as subtle as I can possibly muster.

His head shakes, and his grip grows just a little tighter, stopping the flow of oxygen to my lungs. Mars is not too lost into thinking that I don't understand his emotions, yet his anger refuses to let his mind think.

"Do you?" Lokasenna's eyes rest against mine, and he's the farthest away. Hand repeatedly fixing at his locks. It's not to make himself look good, but it's an act he commits to perhaps in the hopes that what is currently happening, is nothing but a lie.

"I do."

"Mars." Jacqueline repeats, and the hand that has a death grip upon my neck releases. My first instinct was to breathe. Repeatedly. Like it would be the last thing I ever do.