Tell Me What You Want to Hear

Ralla · 10-17-2011, 09:22 PM

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<3 (Sorry for the crappy ending to this post >_>)

Certainly Leon had not looked as Ralla remembered him, paint and adornment aside. He had grown somewhat more muscular, and his hair had been cut--a shame, too, since it had likely taken as long as Ralla's own to grow as long. But not much of conversation--at least for a few moments--escaped Ralla's lips as she buried her face into the man's neck, letting only a single sob catch in her throat as joy overwhelmed her. With Leon, Ralla felt a very close kinship and bond of trust--much like she did with J'adore, but different, as were all her bonds--and his disappearance had marked a very sad day and loss: It had been all too much like Kemo's loss, and had struck deep. To see the Spaniard well and even better than that brought great joy to the woman, and for a moment more she let it soak in that he was before her. Lifting her head from the embrace, Ralla let her hands travel over the man's face, tracing the new contours and marveling at his reappearance, a choked laugh coming through when she spoke, at first.

Leon, is that really you? Where have you been!? Mixed with the feelings of joy, Ralla felt an anger at his disappearance well up, but it did not come out angry--only relieved and concerned and curious as to what he really had been doing. Where have you been!? she repeated, slightly sadder than the first time as it all sunk in. So much has gone wrong! And after Shiloh and Liliana and Nayati--everyone!--with you disappearing, too, I didn't know what to do! Ralla took a moment to recompose herself. But I suppose I shouldn't have expected anything different; all of us should've left the moment we saw Dawali dethroned. Maska is the plague, Leon: He's torn us all apart. With that reminder, Ralla's left arm ached in sympathy. Although there were no scars from Wematin's cutting, and the bandage had long been removed, the pain remained, and would always remain whenever she remembered the injustices brought about the past few months--those which seemed like years. On a perch above, Nootau cocked his head and watched as his charge became overly-emotional, thinking how it would not do for her to be in such a state in the coming days. He would let her have her moment then, but would advise against it after: After all, even spirit guides, while not truly living, were not heartless.

Back below, Ralla soon realized that she was being greeted, also, by Faith, and paid her attention as well in the form of a few soft strokes to the nose and a greeting in low speech. The horse was kind and faithful--a truer companion Leon could not have wished for. And then it all suddenly made sense: Leon's war-paint, Faith's outfitting... You are not here for the war...are you? 'War' was a term that absolutely terrified Ralla; it meant blood and death. Maska had only recently declared the battle to be held, but to think that news and drafts had occurred so swiftly was amazing; the fact that Leon was a participant was not. It was not that he would be fighting against the tyranny that bothered her, but the dangers it posed--she was already troubled that Ayasha had offered herself to be used in the battle, and that there seemed to be little that Ralla could do to dissuade or pull her out from the impending dispute.

It was all so very sad, and so very terrifying.

Moon walks. Moon talks. Moon thinks.

000+

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