WARNING: THE FOLLOWING CONTENT INCLUDES MATERIAL RELATING TO SAME-SEX RELATIONSHIPS THAT SOME PEOPLE MAY FIND OBJECTIONABLE. IF THIS MIGHT OFFEND YOU, STOP NOW AND READ NO FURTHER! (posted with permission of the person that plays the character Ruse)
Ruse sits at a now empty table, a lot more glasses there than her very slight blush would suggest she had drunk spread before three other chairs. Her arms are crossed- head lain down atop them, hair pooling out in a sooty halo. Ruse is scooted so far up in her chair its back legs tip up with her slight weight, and from the rise and fall of her shoulders, she seems to have taken a quick nap.
Tyr's feet are silent, but she makes a small sound back of her throat at seeing Ruse. Her step quickens and the concern she carries everywhere over Ruse's safety has been eased for now. She cups the back of Ruse's head and strokes the fine black strands that shift and move against her fingers like a live thing, “Sunshine...”
Eyes open with a flutter of long dark lashes, and she turns her head to smile at Tyr, knowing the slightly rough touch even in her sleep. She bends one arm at the elbow and reaches over her own shoulder, offering a hand. "Tyr," she says softly.
The breath leaves her chest in a silent whoosh, as if she had just been struck in the ribs... but it is the impact of the azure gaze of one blue-eyed bard. When she finds her voice she speaks in a voice even scratchier than usual, “ You weren’t there when I woke up.”
“Sorry, needed a drink," She sits up a little straighter, still on the edge of the wooden chair. "I saved you a seat," she says, smiling, and runs short fingernails against the open back half of her seat, scratching slightly against the wood grain.
A small frown chases across her features, and the thoughts in her head make the overblown fullness of her lips tighten up, “You could still be in danger.”
Ruse becomes serious, putting her hand over one of Tyr's, "I know.. I shouldn't have left. I'm sorry." Blue eyes become downcast, she wasn't used to living in fear from other-worldly foes and strange secret organizations. Fear of not finding her next meal? Sure, the events of the past few days? Not the same.
Unexpectedly, Tyr jerks her hand free of Ruse's touch, seeming to have made up her mind about something while Ruse had been speaking.
“Well you don't have to be sorry. You can just leave, “ In her mind she slammed up as many walls as she could build, one after another, wood under mirthril under adamantine with an overlay of ice and fire to keep from leaking to Ruse the sudden desperation to protect the black-haired girl from what could be the greatest threat to her life... Tyr, herself.
Ruse's eyes seem to go dead, shocked as if Tyr had just clocked her across the jaw. "Wh...What?" Silvery tears seep across her eyes, blue becoming clouded and stormy, bottom lip quivering ever so slightly. "I.. I don't understand." She says in a very small voice, eyes pleading.
In a voice as cold as the layer of ice she's encased her feelings in, “It’s simple. This isn't going to work. You and me..” She makes a fist at the lie, and hides the action behind a twist of her body.
“It's just not a good idea.”
The very moment her heart breaks is very obvious, eyes widen as if she had been run through, shoulders shake, and she seems to slump moments after, weeping openly. "I.. You.. You can't do this,"
Knowledge of the hurt she's causing with the success at convincing Ruse of the lie is acid in her veins, and she doesn't realize the anguish this causes twists her mouth into self-disgust. She has convinced herself that for Ruse's own good... Ruse should go. Taking the coward's way, she would not be able to walk away from her bard at this point not even were she under a spell of compulsion. Hence, the need to make the girl hate her and do the deed in her stead...
Behind blurry eyes the scenes change, she is sitting on the edge of a bed, her heart clenched the same way, only it's a memory brought to life by the much more intense pangs she now feels. Tyr's form blurs with another, a tall man with dark eyes, and her words come out of his mouth- and his out of hers. Was it simply the sum of the two pains she now felt? No, it was worse, far worse, as Tyr was far more beloved than he ever could have been. With a shaking hand she draws a short, slender blade that seems to spill melancholy melodies from thrumming steel. She throws it to the ground and in one final motion runs from the tavern, allowing only a single look back, azure eyes filled with anguish and.. somehow, even then... Love.
Shielding so tightly she couldn't sense an ogre if it were standing at her back, she manages to keep her tortured gaze on Ruse until the girl is out of sight, then she drops as though struck down. The weapon is between her knees and her face concealed behind the pink hair that falls forward. Her shoulders begin to tremble as she lays her hand on the hilt of the sword, and though dry-eyed, her mouth is stretched wide when she throws her head back, gasping for air and sobbing in brokenhearted silence.
The only thing to keep Tyr from racing after Ruse and begging forgiveness were the images of Uxor and Varro that had been cut into the meat of her memory … Only superimposed upon the pale beauty’s mangled face were the image of blue eyes dull and lifeless, and a fresh pretty face broken and bleeding under a short cap of black hair. She recognized it as cowardice, and admitted to herself the fear that made her willing to accept the young bard’s hate rather than ever have to endure witnessing such atrocities visited upon her. Maybe, when she could breathe again, she would be able to figure out what to do next, but for now… she welcomed the agony as penance for her sins.