Page 43 of The Ballad of a Bard
Forty Tw o
H e could sense the flaring disappointment off of her from a mile away like a radiant comet that shot by, even if she tried to hide it from him. She wasn’t very good at it, but he couldn’t find fault. She’d been alone for most of her years, with no one to guide her in the excellent skill of protecting her feelings from the plain sight of others. He’d mastered it over the eons that he’d been alive, but it wasn’t really something to brag about.
Crimson stared, lost in thought or lost in the churning sea, he wasn’t sure. And the irony of her approaching him before they departed wasn’t lost. Because he’d been in nearly the same spot, the same bland expression on his face, he was sure of that. And as he watched her, found every breathtaking detail about her, he hated Heartache even more.
Not for granting him a life, immortal or not, because he was thankful for existing. He couldn’t even be mad at the fact that he’d live forever because if he hadn’t, then he never would have met her. West lived a thousand years, experienced a hundred different lives but it was all moot compared to this one. He’d lived, but he’d never truly enjoyed any of it until now.
West knew that Cobalt had a part to play in that.
He cared for the boy like he was his own son, his own brother and whether it was one or the other that took precedence, he was more than glad to have the child in this version of his life. He knew that it was mostly due to the beautiful girl however, the one that laced her fingers together over the barnacle-encrusted railing of the ship that took them home.
Back to Tazali.
Back to Heartache.
Crimson had not expressed any disappointment in the fact that her father hadn’t been found, but she hadn’t given up on hope either. He knew it stemmed from those long years of taking care of her brother like her own child, wondering if he would live or not. He couldn’t imagine the weight that bore on her from day after day of contemplating if he would make it or not.
West prayed every day that he did.
She didn’t deserve any of this unfairness.
That might have been horrible of him to say since he’d witnessed tons of people stuck with their shitty lives, but it was different with her. No matter what she’d been shoved into, pushed towards or thrusted around, she’d been brave.
She shouldn’t have had to be.
And that was the part that triggered him most of all. It didn’t matter if she was eighteen or twenty-eight, her father should not have left her after she’d recently dealt with her mother’s death. West considered himself well acquainted with Connor, to the point where he could most likely speak on his behalf and say something similar.
But this- it was a delicate situation .
One that was far more below the surface like an iceberg bobbing in the ocean, more than what met the eye as most of it was hidden from plain sight. Facts that they were slowly uncovering together.
He refused to leave her side until it was over.
She had enough people abandoning her.
West wouldn’t be one of them.
There was still a hovering thought that he couldn’t shake as the ship sailed through the clear waters. If he’d been created from Heartache, even if the smallest strand, and she’d come from his matter as well, did that connect them in some way that was more than just owning Saint blood? Then he thought about Muse and how even if a drop of power from the original immortal created them, that they were still born of their own items, their own magic.
West brushed it away as he pushed off the flat top layer of the boat and jaunted down the five steps that connected to the main deck. He causally approached her and she heard him, her chin turning ever so slightly. The bitter tang of sea and salt caressed him, dousing him in a light layer of ocean mist as the boat treaded at a firm, fast pace. It was nice, refreshing in a cold way that knocked him from his other thoughts.
The ones that studied the captivating girl that caught his attention no matter what he was doing, the one that sang to his soul as if she were connected to it and made him question everything. The one that he couldn’t put aside, not that he wanted to. Crimson, the amazing light that brightened up his life, even if he was the source of light himself.
“I wonder if he’ll be there.” She pondered out loud, fully aware that he was by her side. “If he’ll be waiting for us, like we’ve been waiting for him.”
W e, not I.
West savoured the idea that they were a they, not individuals with a similar plan. It might have been foolish, but he tucked it into his very being for later. For the darkest moments when he required a reminder of all that was good.
She fixed her posture, ignoring the cry of seagulls that filled the air as her olive green and gold eyes located him. It made him stutter, as if he were in his new prime and unsure of what to say to a pretty girl, which she was.
“No one knows how to control each artefact until it’s done.” He said instead, flicking his focus out to the vast ocean before them. Seagulls dove for their next scaly meal, sweeping in and out of the sea with efficiency. “Don’t take the blame if he’s not there.”
It wasn’t the answer she was hoping for, clear on her sharp features as she looked away. A shred of hatred slashed through him at that.
“It’s hard not to when I’ve felt as though I was the reason for his departure in the first place.” Crimson admitted to him as she pulled her braid over her shoulder and began to mess with it.
“You weren’t the reason he left.” West despised the cold, dead tone that poured from her, as if she could have tried harder to make Heartache stay. As if there was anything to fault her for. She was perfect, utterly and indescribably perfect.
“You don’t know that.” She pushed back.
“Yes,” He insisted. “I do.”
Crimson shoved off the railing to face him, fury and sorrow vivid in her eyes. “I know that you’ve been around for as long as he has, perhaps a little less but it doesn’t give you the right to speak for him, to know what went through his head when he abandoned us.”
Her cheeks turned red, but not in that adorable way that he constantly found himself distracted by. It was either that, or nothing. Shame, he found there instead .
West dug deep and found everything he liked about her. “He left for his own selfish reasons. He didn’t get to understand that you are a beautiful spirit, an amazing person and a fighter through and through. Anyone would be lucky to have you in their life.”
The flush changed.
“Including you?”
“Including me.” He assured her with a weak smile. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get used to a life without you, Heartstrings. You’ve transformed it into something better. Something worth living in this lifetime.”
Crimson turned crimson.
West admired it before it could fade back into her natural tone and vanish until the next time he said something that made her heat. He enjoyed how easy it was.
“I don’t think I could live without you, either, West.” She admitted as the very tip of her nose shifted pink. “Nor do I want to.”
He liked it.
He liked her.
More than liked her, if he is being honest with himself.
And that was terrifying.