Sanria was warmed at how enthusiastically Ror took the moss. He checked his list and agreed he had all he needed. Methodical and attentive. She stared at the uniform again with a smile and nod. "Throm would have been very happy with you, I know it."
"Eh?" came the puzzled reply.
"Ah, my ramblings. You're a studious mind and a researcher. He would have truly enjoyed meeting you and perhaps getting to know you as he was also."
"Was he a famous researcher?" Ror asked.
"Famous..." and Sanria chuckled. "He was a congressman for TriPower and a leader of the army. I don't know about famous, but well known. Well known."
"I will ask around then, because I have not seen any statues of him yet."
"I don't know that there will be any. But he was a good man. It seems you are as well."
She anticipated Ror would be off and in fact Sanria had made ready to say goodbye, but it seemed the sorrow on her face had stopped the researcher from going. "My apologies if my remarks have caused you sorrow. I meant well. All the great men and women of the TriPower have their statue. I know, I studied them. Just none of Throm."
"There is no need for apologies. I'm not truly certain all know of his death, he was known for disappearing as well. In their minds, he may simply be off on another adventure." Wasn't that death anyway? Another grand adventure? Inwardly she chuckled, certainly Throm would have thought so.
"May I be so bold and ask you how he died?"
Sanria took the proffered arm and allowed herself to be led to the side of the falls where moss grew in abundance. There, she sat near Ror, and told him about Throm's death - the black makou that had plagued him for so many years - the last time she saw him that he was free of it, but had died. The truth was, Sanria did not know how Throm had died, but she had a suspicion. Getting the black mako out, in her mind, had ended Throm's life. The thought flittered across her mind that what was in Colin might just have to stay in there forever.
Colin... she had forgotten completely about Colin and Nioma. The last thing she needed was Colin to come out of the cavern and see her sprawled on the moss with a man he'd never seen. Not that she was, necessarily, sprawled "with" Ror, but... "I think I shall go then, but I would like to make an appoint, if that's not a problem," he asked as she rose to go.
"To return?"
"Here? I suspect elsewhere to be honest. But if here, then here, yes." It shocked Sanria a little, they hadn't gotten on that well, had they? "Any where, certainly. When and where?"
"When you have the time, as for where, that would be Throm's laboratory."
Sanria's breath caught. The absolute forward nature of the request was raw against the wound she had allowed to surface. What had she done? "I... can't do that... I'm sorry."
"Sorry, I didn't mean you have to go with me. You can if you want. All I ask is that you show me where it is."
"No... I can't... do that," she replied again. What the hell had she done.
"Too dangerous or personal objections?"
"Quite a bit of both, I assure you. Throm had secrets that... even with his not being here, I suspect would be best kept that way. Besides... he does still have a son out there somewhere and I don't feel it my place to reveal his father's personal life."
"Alright. There's nothing I can do then. But, if Throm's research falls in another's hands, outside the TriPower, what then?"
"There is much you do not know about Throm uth Bannon, Ror."
They parted, Ror's words, "Heh, you told me more than they did. And I read the books too. Such an important man, yet no statue," knocking against her brain. And then he mouthed a few words, no sound, but she was certain she had not misinterpreted. "I need to know. Because I don't trust him." Even in death, she thought, Throm was plagued with what? Being a politician and a sorcerer who knew far more than he ever let on. She would meet with Ror again, but this time, she would watch her words carefully.
Sanria went back inside, back into the thick air, back into the place where happiness hinged on her staying put. She regretted going outside today. She regretted talking to someone new. She regretted that she would have to weave yet another fabrication to extricate herself from saying too much, and yet another fabrication to keep someone she cared for safe... even if he was dead.
Research Division
"He disappeared?" the elf asked.
"He died. Old history... I'm sorry," Sanria replied, standing straighter.
"I see. My condolences"
"Thank you. I'm Sanria Stone."
"Ror Surion," he said with a salute. "Research division."
"What do you research, if I could ask?"
"Ah, I research the domains of magic, most predominantly the lifeforce and nature."
Sanria's head swam. Lifeforce and nature. Key components in the creation of Nioma. She batted the thoughts away before they could take hold. This was a new face. Before she knew it, he rattled off the names of each herb in her hand and it pleased her greatly. "Are you a sage? Most who aren't don't really know them so well..."
"Indeed, I am a sage. Although still in training, I must admit."
"We are always in training, Sir Ror."
"Touche."
The elf, Ror, had been looking for herbs and in particular the moss that grew abundantly at the edge of the falls. It was an opportunity to show the cavern to a new face, and Sanria led Ror behind the falls and into the sparkle of the Bejuril Crystals. She allowed him to take a few, telling him the story of Icehawk and how, long ago, he had been able to fashion communication crystals that worked with technology. Yet another memory from a time that seemed so far away from now.
Sanria left Ror happily pulling crystals from the cavern and walked back out into the forests. She gathered the moss for him, tucking it into one of the satchels she had brought for her own purposes, then sat across from the falls, watching the water. An elf. In truth, the last one she had seen was Kaliadra and that was ages past. How was she? Obviously alive, for without her Sanria would also be dead. Had she forgotten herself? Or perhaps she had found a new life and moved on. The questions kept surfacing until Ror at last made his way back out from the cavern.
"He died. Old history... I'm sorry," Sanria replied, standing straighter.
"I see. My condolences"
"Thank you. I'm Sanria Stone."
"Ror Surion," he said with a salute. "Research division."
"What do you research, if I could ask?"
"Ah, I research the domains of magic, most predominantly the lifeforce and nature."
Sanria's head swam. Lifeforce and nature. Key components in the creation of Nioma. She batted the thoughts away before they could take hold. This was a new face. Before she knew it, he rattled off the names of each herb in her hand and it pleased her greatly. "Are you a sage? Most who aren't don't really know them so well..."
"Indeed, I am a sage. Although still in training, I must admit."
"We are always in training, Sir Ror."
"Touche."
The elf, Ror, had been looking for herbs and in particular the moss that grew abundantly at the edge of the falls. It was an opportunity to show the cavern to a new face, and Sanria led Ror behind the falls and into the sparkle of the Bejuril Crystals. She allowed him to take a few, telling him the story of Icehawk and how, long ago, he had been able to fashion communication crystals that worked with technology. Yet another memory from a time that seemed so far away from now.
Sanria left Ror happily pulling crystals from the cavern and walked back out into the forests. She gathered the moss for him, tucking it into one of the satchels she had brought for her own purposes, then sat across from the falls, watching the water. An elf. In truth, the last one she had seen was Kaliadra and that was ages past. How was she? Obviously alive, for without her Sanria would also be dead. Had she forgotten herself? Or perhaps she had found a new life and moved on. The questions kept surfacing until Ror at last made his way back out from the cavern.
The Elf
Tea. That's why Sanria needed to leave the cavern. Not for the stifling feeling or the sensation she was drowning beneath the weight of some yet untold lie. Not for the tiny twinge of guilt that wrenched her bowels in a tremor of tiny needles pricking at her innards. Tea. Herbs. She was running out, knowing full well the containers were full. Sanria excused herself, leaving Colin holding Nioma, "their" blue-eyed daughter.
The forest offered a lungful of fresh air. Sanria could never quite explain how the forest made her feel. The air was vital, thick with the scent of pine and loam. It was cool and soothing, and she found herself humming quietly as she plucked the growing sprigs of chamomile and yarrow. With a few more spearmint leaves, she would have enough. And as she went to the edge of a tree, she heard the humming that was not her own.
Sanria was stunned into silence. He was an elf, tanned, athletic, and a bit taller than Sanria herself. Her eyes then fell on his uniform and she found her breath caught in her throat. When was the last time she had seen a TriPower uniform? A sudden wave grief hit her, but she untied the knot in her stomach and fought back the tears that stung her eyes. She rarely allowed herself time to think of Throm. In everything that had happened, those memories had been relegated to the back of her mind.
"Excuse me..." Sanria said, approaching the elf, who now picked at a few herbs of his own.
"Oh! Hello, didn't see you there," he replied.
"Quite alright... I was just... wondering... you are wearing TriPower regalia, correct?" Of course she was correct, but anything to make small talk. Anything to perhaps touch a tiny corner of the fabric that had been her life. Not too much... but just enough.
"Ahem, yes madam, indeed, you are correct."
"It's been a long while since I've seen it..."
"The regalia, or something else?"
"You are keenly perceptive. I lost someone very special to me." She wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch the armors. She refrained.
"You may have known him, though perhaps not, he was a leader of TriPower."
"I'm all ears, madam."
"Throm uth Bannon," she replied, fighting her grief back.
The forest offered a lungful of fresh air. Sanria could never quite explain how the forest made her feel. The air was vital, thick with the scent of pine and loam. It was cool and soothing, and she found herself humming quietly as she plucked the growing sprigs of chamomile and yarrow. With a few more spearmint leaves, she would have enough. And as she went to the edge of a tree, she heard the humming that was not her own.
Sanria was stunned into silence. He was an elf, tanned, athletic, and a bit taller than Sanria herself. Her eyes then fell on his uniform and she found her breath caught in her throat. When was the last time she had seen a TriPower uniform? A sudden wave grief hit her, but she untied the knot in her stomach and fought back the tears that stung her eyes. She rarely allowed herself time to think of Throm. In everything that had happened, those memories had been relegated to the back of her mind.
"Excuse me..." Sanria said, approaching the elf, who now picked at a few herbs of his own.
"Oh! Hello, didn't see you there," he replied.
"Quite alright... I was just... wondering... you are wearing TriPower regalia, correct?" Of course she was correct, but anything to make small talk. Anything to perhaps touch a tiny corner of the fabric that had been her life. Not too much... but just enough.
"Ahem, yes madam, indeed, you are correct."
"It's been a long while since I've seen it..."
"The regalia, or something else?"
"You are keenly perceptive. I lost someone very special to me." She wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch the armors. She refrained.
"You may have known him, though perhaps not, he was a leader of TriPower."
"I'm all ears, madam."
"Throm uth Bannon," she replied, fighting her grief back.
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