I glance at Garrison finding him doing the same, only there's a different sadness to his eyes than there normally is. I know the look. He's worn it and tried to hide it this entire time, but I know Garrison, and I can also feel the underlining emotions beneath the pride. He misses someone. Not his family, that's homesickness which feels like a tether hanging loosely between him and where they are safe back in Fernweh. This feels like a tether that disappears into the darkness. A line that leads to somewhere that was once clearly visible, but now lies past the fog. He misses someone or the feeling of something, but he doesn't know what it is he's missing. A part of him clearly does, otherwise, the rope would be broken, but he's denying himself the right to allow himself to admit to the truth.
It seems like I'm not the only one who is falling, I just know who I'm falling for.
"You're not smiling," I point out, keeping my focus on him and his reactions.
He glances at me. "Should I be?"
"I'm not sure." He gives me a confused look. "I suppose I would be confused too if I didn't know how I felt about a certain someone who turned out to be someone else entirely."
His facial expression doesn't shift once. I'd give Lance the credit for that, but Garrison was always like this when it came down to his feelings. He'd turn to stone and never give you a single hint as to what he was really thinking. If it weren't for the wind element telling me that he's suddenly become a whole mess of emotions, then I'd never guess what he's thinking.
"What's your point?" He asks me evenly.
I can't help the smirk that pulls my lips up as his emotions are slightly fogged out by a small yearning of some kind. It's still hard to read certain emotions, but I get the gist of it. "You feel something for her."
"Clarice is more like a sister to me than a lover, Darius. I would've thought you'd trust me more."
I roll my eyes, but my heart gives a small squeeze at his confession of how he thinks of Clarice. I knew he liked her. "First off, I do trust you, and I'm happy you've grown to like someone. Secondly, I'm not talking about Clarice."
His face is still stone, but those emotions are ratting him out. "Come on, Garrison. We all know that you secretly have a thing for Branka."
There's a loud dramatic gasp behind us and we turn to find Makatza pretending to be shocked with her eyes wide and hands placed on either side of her face. "You and Branka! I never!"
I smile at her performance, Garrison rolling his eyes and spreading his feet further apart. How in ten hells did he end up with Branka and not Nilsa? I mean the two are practically the same person.
"I think he's in denial," I say to her as she takes a perch upon the boulder I've been leaning against.
"What the fuck for? She's just as smitten with him as he is with her." A wave of that spice-tasting emotion rolls off of him, but then it's gone, replaced by some other icy feeling.
"Yes, well, we're talking about Garrison here. He has no room for love, only broodiness, and gripe."
"Ah, I see. Now that you mention it, Branka is quite the opposite. Always cheerful and unquestioningly willing." I give her a strange look, wondering if we're really talking about the same Branka. I may not have known her for long, but she never seemed as cheery and vibrant as Serephina or even Mak. "Oh, please. Branka is a hardass who cares so much that she comes off as unapproachable and stubborn. Just ask your flame-crowned Queen. Branka wouldn't let her out of her bed until she was ninety-nine percent convinced that she wouldn't break an ankle walking."
I forgot that Clarice still had the crown of flames on her head and the water one on mine.
"I suppose there's really no hope for either of them," I sigh.
"None at all."
"They'll be alone forever."
"Third-wheeling for the rest of their boring, lonely lives."
"Pining after each other..."
"Destined to be, yet pulled apart by their own idiocy and stubbornness." We glance over at him, but he's still brooding.
I know I said I'd never meddle in his love life again, but I think I might actually get somewhere this time. "Unless..."
Garrison snaps his eyes onto mine at my tone. For a second I forget that I'm technically his boss. I mean he has the intimidating stare down. "No."
"Hear me out-"
"No."
"But-"
"Need I remind you what happened the last time you all tried to play matchmaker?" I clamp my mouth shut. It wasn't necessarily a happy ending, but it could've worked. In theory. "Don't meddle, Darius, or else I'll lock you in a cell and throw away the key."
I grab Mak's wrist and pull her back down onto the rock. A guttural noise comes from her throat.
"Did you just...growl?"
"Yeah, and?"
I shrug a shoulder, turning back to thankfully still see Garrison standing right there. "Come on, Garrison. If you don't want me meddling then make something of it yourself. We all know about your shift in the tunnels."
Everything about him goes utterly still. Even the waves of confusing emotions halt. "Or maybe we don't know everything," Mak insinuates.
"What are we talking about?" Vanya walks up behind us with a bag of crackers in her hand. Mak instantly shoves her hand in and grabs a handful as her sister leans on the other side of her.
"Garrison's too chicken to tell Branka she's hot," Mak answers, her mouth already full.
"To be fair, Branka's too chicken to do the same. She hasn't even mentioned him once since she was miraculously brought back from the dead."
I glare at her and catch sight of Nilsa walking up to join us. "Not helping," I say between my teeth.
"None of you are helping," Nilsa states.
"Well, what are we supposed to do? Give him a hug and tell him that his one true love will find him eventually?" Mak asks.
"That's bullshit advice," Rohana comments, coming to stand on my other side. I don't miss how she positioned her body so that she could still keep an eye and an ear on Clarice. "Men don't see their one true love until they get smacked in the face or held at knifepoint."
I go to argue and stop when she raises a brow. Huh. I did, in fact, fall for Clarice when she had a blade to my throat.
"There's no such thing as one true love," Nilsa says.
"Yeah," Henry agrees, walking up beside her. "I mean who could ever fall in love with Rohana?"
We all groan with dread, all knowing that they're about to go into another verbal brawl that none of us will be able to stop unless we knock them both out. Though Garrison looks more relieved than further annoyed. Probably because the subject is being changed off of him and onto...whatever it is Rohana and Henry have going on. I will happily not play matchmaker for those two.
I look up at Rohana and pray to the Gods and their Saints that she'll spare us all and just walk away. With the dark look in her eyes, I'd say that's a possibility of...never.
"Maybe vos invitare eum in lecto, Rohana. Da ei, causa cadere," Mak says in Thralian. I hate it when they switch languages. I want in on the gossip too!
"Et ipse non poterit stare in mane vel aliquis qui fricabis gallum enim ei, cum ipse sit solus sum semel factum est cum eo," Rohana responds.
Mak starts choking on her crackers at her response, Vanya bursting out in laughter so hard that she falls to the ground with tears in her eyes. I start patting Mak on the back to help her breathe again, glancing concernigly up at Nilsa who's pinching the bridge of her nose.
On second thought, I think I'll pass on the whole new language thing.
Mak finally gets the crackers unstuck from her throat, Vanya also taking deep breaths as she calms herself down and wipes away her tears.
"Did she confess her love for me?" Henry asks.
"Not necessarily," Dee answers, appearing at his shoulder. She puts a hand on his shoulder and looks up at him. "Do you remember when we first met? What's the first thing I said to you?"
"Uhhh..."
"You told him 'good luck,'" Vlad answers, also walking with her.
"And I'm telling you again." She glances at Rohana and turns back to him with a not so hopeful expression. "Good luck."
Vanya starts laughing again and Nilsa leaves without another word. Dee pats a very confused Henry on the shoulder twice before grabbing Rohana's arm and pulling her away before they get into a real fight.
Henry looks back at me hoping for an answer, but I have no idea and shrug my shoulders. How am I supposed to know what they're saying? I can feel emotions and try to read them through that, but Rohana was feeling nothing but rage. Though I have noticed that all the members of the Ginerva are harder to feel, emotion-wise. They've probably had training hiding such things, but every now and then I can feel their stronger ones slip out. It occurs more when they're angry. It seems to be a common thing for them.
Henry turns away and leaves too, heading back to where the rest of my friends all take a break on the ground. It's just Mak, Vanya, Garrison, and I again.
"So..." None of them speak, Mak too busy eating the rest of the crackers, Vanya laying on the ground, and Garrison distantly watching Clarice and Roseia still play with Víđarr. "Garrison?"
"Hmm."
"Why don't you just tell her that you like her?"
"Did you tell Clarice that you like her when you first met her?" He asks, turning to me.
"Well no, but that's only because she already knew."
"No, she didn't."
"Garrison. The woman was a highly trained assassin who notices everything and anything around her. She knew."
"She may have known," Vanya chimes in. "But that doesn't mean she didn't need to hear it."
"Okay, hold on. We're talking about him here, not me."
"You're just overthinking it," Mak says, returning to the original subject. "Branka isn't that complicated to handle. Just tell her how you feel and then she'll confess her love for you and you two can live happily ever after."
"She loves the Mitella Stauropetala flowers - you know, the little white ones with arms," Vanya shares. "Don't ask me why, they look weird to me. Just don't get her the forget-me-nots, 'cause then you'll crash and burn and never have another chance with her."
"Oh! Her favorite color is canary yellow, and she loves hard candy with sugar on it."
"She hates the cold with a passion, but she'll be okay so long as she has her layers and at least eight cups of hot cocoa."
"Or you could just cuddle her. You know, body heat," Mak suggests with a wiggle of her eyebrows.
Garrison makes a face at her. "Why are you telling me this."
"You're right, you should be talking to Rohana," Vanya answers. "She'll know way more than any of us on how to please Branka."
"Don't send him to Rohana," Mak says with a slap to Vanya's thigh.
"Why not?"
"She'll threaten to chop off his manhood if he goes within an inch of Branka."
"Shit. Don't tell Rohana about this," she says to Garrison.
"For Saint's sake." He turns and walks away, ignoring their pleas for him to come back.
"Men never appreciate a woman's point of view," Vanya grumbles.
"As a man, I disagree with that statement," I argue. "I enjoy a woman's point of view."
"You're only saying that because you're a King and you have to listen to your people's opinions," Mak whines.
"First off, being King means I can do whatever I do and do not want to. So I don't have to listen to people's opinions, I choose to because I find them valuable. Secondly, I've grown up with men around me for most of my life, so apologies if I'm a little tired of them."
"Awwww. The little king needs some girl talk." I glare at Vanya. She knows that that's not what I meant.
"So why won't Branka say anything to him?" I ask, changing the subject.
"Because she's scared," Mak answers. "She thinks that he fell in love with Hiraeth, not Branka, and therefore, he no longer likes her."
"Well, that's clearly bullshit."
"This could all be avoided if he would just tell her that he still has feelings for her."
"Why do we men have to do all the work? Why can't the women be the ones to impress us men?"
Víđarr leaps at Roseia again, making her yelp and jump away. He ends up rolling onto his back for belly rubs that both women give. It turns into an unfair wrestling fight that the girls seem to be winning. I watch them play and laugh for a moment before realizing that neither Mak nor Vanya has answered.
I turn to find them both glaring heavily at me with stone-cold expressions. I sense that I've made a mistake somewhere and slowly back away from the feral women. They don't seem to be wanting to swallow their...whatever it is that has smoke coming out of their nose and ears.
I suppose a midday training session wouldn't hurt.
I've only taken ten steps when they launch upward. I don't even hesitate to turn and run toward Víđarr and the girls, hoping they'll help me.
They don't.
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