>>6173170And with the Seven on the prowl, another shiver runs down her spine, now that Bradiamante has left. Even if Helias thinks the contrary, she really doubts she can face a few of them, and get out unscathed.
That would be far different from the few scuffs she got from her latest fistfight with Carnaval.
A chorus of voices calls her attention. The people from the village are running towards her, raising their arms up, smiling, crying. A young man throws himself at her feet, and his hands would tug at her clothes if she were wearing any.
“T-Thank you. Thank you!”
So showy.
She is no guardian.
“This covers one of your contracted summonings,” she reminds him. The man nods, grateful. “You have two left — I won’t be obliged to provide any further succour after tha—”
An old woman, her face grey and wrinkled by years, pulls her into a hug. If she still had ribs—
“Thank you! Thank you so much!”
Actually, even without ribs, she can feel them crack.
The old woman lifts her from the ground in her bear hug, grinding her old teared-up face against her ever-youthful one.
“For saving us! For saving my nephew! For—”
“Alright, alright! Put me down!”
“A celebration!” Comes another voice from the villagers.
“Get the good meat out!”
“And whatever beer we have left! For the red-eyed angel!”
“You better stay and eat something,” the old woman sternly says, finally setting her down, her feet touching the grass again. The Stilladìa takes in a huge gulp of air, checking her waist to see if anything is broken, while the old woman keeps looming over her. “You are all bones! Do you even eat anything?” She rubs her wizened hands over her thin wrist.
But this granny’s wrists are even thinner. These mangy people, living off a desperate land, carving whatever little they can out of it. So far away from her own Domain, where wits and determination would allow you to make something out of their lives. So far away even from Ansàrra’s own suffocating light, which would have given them a pleasant, if meaningless, existence.
Just souls washed over in the lost corners of the world, lost in the permanent haze beneath the ring.
And whatever little they could have, they were willing to share it with her.
A dozen hopeful, grateful eyes gaze upon her.
Helias wouldn’t mind if she spends just a little bit of time with these people — he knows her too well. He would be, in fact, overjoyed.
And the empty hole left where her heart was vaporised by the flames of Ansàrra pulsates at the grateful cheers of people surrounding her.
Perhaps, just this once… getting something for free wouldn’t go against her principles.
“Just for a while,” the Stilladìa sighs.
Then she’ll once again go check on that silver-haired curiosity.
[cont.]
