>>6032447You hesitate right on the lid. Salicera’s words sound a bit too strange. Is she not worried about committing a sin? Alarm bells toll high and loud in your head, but when you look at her, you hesitate, your reproach stopping on its tracks right on the tip of your tongue.Salicera’s shoulders slump. She looks almost… disappointed. Defeated?
Was this about something else than the sword?Oh, <span class="mu-i">Starless Night</span>! Why can’t you understand what people mean a little better? See? <span class="mu-i">See?</span> That’s what happens when you get too complacent, when you think you can just spew out whatever you feel.
You bit your lip as you blame yourself. You must have heard that wrong. Salicera surely meant something else than just taking the sword. You rake your mind, trying to understand where you went wrong, just as you tentatively take a few steps away from the hole and Salicera, still holding her arms closed in against her torso, looks at her feet.
“Yes, let’s go back to Rubida,” you say, trying to pull the conversation back into the ease you shared just a few times tonight. The same sort of friendly flow you also felt with Soralisa the first few times you spoke and before, when you saved her from the Sanction.
You need to do better. You can’t just wait for grace to come to you.
“Thanks for offering your help,” you fidget, trying to repair a bridge you felt cracking right beneath your feet. “I appreciate it. I have been trying to—” <span class="mu-i">make friends</span>. “To behave more like Saint Bragia. I feel like tonight we are all working a little better together. I hope we can continue to do so… I mean… just… thank you.” You drop both your head and the conversation as you play with your brigandine, as if checking on the plaques’ integrity.
Of course they are going to be just fine.
Salicera sighs and side-steps, bringing herself to your left. She picks up your left arm, the one you used the Searing Blood Sanction with. Her touch is strikingly gentle and there is the same crease in her eyes as before, caught between hope and disappointment.
“You haven’t even asked anyone to take a look at your sacrificial wounds, Argia,” she huffs. “And I am no good with Sanctions. That is what irks me.”
“That you are not—” you try. You want to make her feel better about herself, as silly as this notion is for someone with her skills.
“That you have such a low consideration of yourself!” She hisses, turning again to block your path. She’s just a thumb taller than you, but she seems to loom taller than the Malostromo as she rakes her fingers over your wounds. The power of the Sanction has already cauterised the wounds, but they will likely leave a few scars.
You do not really mind.
What is the big deal about scars anyway?
[cont.]
