[center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/nVkgMCRF/Banner.png[/img] [h3] Fractured Reflections Part 2 [/h3][/center][hr][right][sub][color=royalblue]Location[/color]: Elara's Home---> Seluna Temple [color=goldenrod]Collab Between[/color]: ([@Dark Light] & [@Qia]) [/sub][/right][hr] [indent][color=gray]The snowfall still persisted without reprieve. (and Elara still has his cloak)[/color] Aliseth stopped dead in his tracks so his next words might be given in earnest. Forcing himself to look her in the eyes as he draws forth the courage and admits his failure with all sincerity. [color=goldenrod]"My lady, please forgive me. I failed you both. I am dreadfully sorry."[/color] Elara also drew herself to an abrupt standstill, noting the shift in Aliseth’s expression—his eyes, so composed moments ago, now seemed to hold an unspoken burden. She also observed how his breath ghosted into the chill air, laden with a heaviness the frost alone could not justify, as though carrying the quiet lament of someone who had condemned himself long before voicing his regret. Failure. She had never been permitted the luxury of lingering on failure. Her family had built their lives upon resilience, adaptability, and the dignity of perseverance emblematic of Lunarian tradition. Mistakes were acknowledged candidly yet swiftly set aside, never permitted to become definitive markers of one's identity. And in the cold silence of Dawnhaven, she saw in Aliseth’s expression something dangerously close to self-condemnation. And she understood it far too well. “[color=royalblue]You are not the only one who wishes things had been different,[/color]” she murmured gently, devoid of reproach or dismissiveness. “[color=royalblue]You believe you failed, and perhaps I do as well.[/color]” A pause, brief but significant. “[color=royalblue]When I was younger,[/color]” she continued, voice thoughtful, distant, “[color=royalblue]my mother imparted to me that failure was never the absence of success, but rather the absence of understanding. She taught this truth through healing, through magic, through the very essence of life itself. It has been a belief I've tried to believe in.[/color]” Elara exhaled slowly, the warmth of her breath curling into the air before dissolving into the night. “[color=royalblue]I have tried to believe in it….[/color]” she repeated, softer this time, as though saying it aloud was an affirmation she herself still needed to hear. She tilted her gaze upward, watching the snowfall in a moment of quiet contemplation. “[color=royalblue]But belief does not always come easily, does it?[/color]” Her lips curved, not quite into a smile, but into something wry—something caught between understanding and resignation. “[color=royalblue]I do not pretend to know the shape of your grief. Nor would I presume to lessen it. But I do know that if failure alone was what defined us, neither of us would be standing here now.[/color]” She shifted her gaze to him again, earnest intensity softening her features as she studied his countenance. “[color=royalblue]Tell me,[/color]” she said, her voice gentle but unwavering. “[color=royalblue]If our places had been reversed—if I had been the one to fall, and you had been the one left standing—would you call me a failure?[/color]” Her query was neither accusation nor hollow rhetoric, but rather a sincere need to illuminate a truth she sensed he already held, yet refused himself. “[color=royalblue]Because I would not. I would call you what you are—a man who fought, who stood, who did not turn away even when faced with the unbearable.[/color]” Aliseth couldn't help but offer a small smile of appreciation. Elara was perhaps the first and only person who didn't seem to blame him for Abel's death and the whole ordeal. While she couldn't erase his guilt, she definitely managed to ease its burden. It was a scar far from healed, one he would carry for quite some time yet. The focus she kept redirecting his way left him feeling somewhat uncomfortable and exposed. He wasn’t used to such scrutiny, not like this. With an unspoken request to move forward he reached out to take her arm and, without another word, he guided them back into motion, their steps once again falling into sync with the quiet rhythm of the snowy streets. The cold air curled between them, but the warmth of her presence lingered at his side. [color=goldenrod]"Tell me, Elara…"[/color] he began, glancing sideways at her. [color=goldenrod]"How does one get blessed both with the beauty of youth and the wisdom of age?"[/color] He enquired, before allowing a follow-up question to slip from his lips on a softer breath. [color=goldenrod]"You surprise me, you're not what I expected of a handmaiden. Is this your life's choice?"[/color] Another deceptively simple question. And yet, when had she last considered it in earnest? The cold bit at her skin, though it failed to breach the deeper chill nestled in her chest. For a moment, Elara said nothing, her boots pressing imprints into the pristine snow as they walked. She did not offer him immediate answers, only silence—thoughtful, weighty, the kind that carried far more than its absence of sound implied. Then, at last, she exhaled. “[color=royalblue]Choice is an interesting thing, isn't it?[/color]” she murmured. “[color=royalblue]It implies a moment of true agency. Of standing at a crossroads and selecting a path, knowing—believing—you had the freedom to walk away from the others.[/color]” She turned her gaze forward again, but something distant lurked in her eyes—a reflection of thoughts long buried and only now unearthed. “[color=royalblue]I entered the Princess’s service willingly,[/color]” she said, choosing her words carefully. “[color=royalblue]But willingness is not the same as choice. I do not regret the path I have walked, but I wonder sometimes… if it was truly my own to walk.[/color]” Her voice softened, not quite wistful, but something akin to it. “[color=royalblue] Aliseth, isn’t it? You surprise me as well, [/color]” she admitted, tilting her head slightly. “[color=royalblue]I did not expect you to ask such a thing.[/color]” Nor the sincere compliment he had offered. Elara had meant to continue, to let the words roll forth without pause—but then his earlier remark caught up to her, and something in her composure wavered. Her steps faltered for a moment, almost imperceptible, but she knew he would notice. A warmth crept into her cheeks, subtle but present, a quiet betrayal against the otherwise unshaken coolness of her expression. She was no stranger to being called beautiful; it had followed her in whispered admiration and courtly pleasantries alike. And yet, she had never quite known what to do with it. Aliseth's remark was distinctly different. No artifice laced his voice, no hollow flattery designed solely to charm. It was stated plainly, simply, as a truth irrefutable. Perhaps that honesty was precisely what unsettled her—the genuine nature of his observation demanded nothing in return. “[color=royalblue]B-but… what did you expect of me?[/color]” Her fingers tightened briefly, subtly flexing in an effort to disperse the warmth suffusing her cheeks. “[color=royalblue]In my capacity as a handmaiden, that is.[/color]” As Elara spoke, Aliseth nodded ever so slightly with contemplative understanding. Also politely affirming and acknowledging his name. As with nearly every time Elara finished speaking, Aliseth's lips pressed firmly in what could only be the beginning of an involuntary smile. He was finding it an ongoing effect of her presence that was growing harder and harder to deny. That same smile flourished a little more, like a warmth against the cold, as he effortlessly adjusted to her faltering step and conveniently looked away as her pale cheeks began to flush with a hint of red. In his diverting glance, his eyes happened upon an old torn spider web glimmering in the curve of a young tree. [color=goldenrod]"People always refer to choice like a fork in the road."[/color] He said musingly. [color=goldenrod]"But I find it to be more like that web."[/color] Pressing his lips together he let out a soft 'hmm' as he searched for a better explanation. [color=goldenrod] "Actually more like walking on thin ice."[/color] His voice filled with certainty at his new analogy as he looked down to his feet in the snow as if he could see it now. [color=goldenrod]"With every new step we take, no matter how lightly or small, we cause cracks to splinter out from our touch. Each of these is a new set of choices or paths, each filled with untaken possibilities. Often, we don't even see the many choices that surround us... and even more often"[/color] his words slowed as the air felt heavier on his tongue and his tone dropped ever so slightly. [color=goldenrod]"We are blind to the paths that lead us to the thinner ice, the paths of change, the uncomfortable choices that hide the greater rewards because deep-down we all fear the risk."[/color] He wasn't sure when it happened, but while he was speaking, lost to thoughts, his gaze had once again returned to and locked upon her face, having drifted down from those oceanic orbs, along her petite nose and now resting on her soft alluring lips... [/indent]