Chapter 633: An Elf’s Tale, Part 3
When Eshwlyn next opened her eyes, it was the ridges and grooves of the ceiling of her personal cabin that greeted her. It took only a few blinks, a few moments, before the many wounds she sustained began to flare and sore as a painful reminder as to how exactly she had attained them.
The ship was now in a constant calm sway, and the outside was absent with the incessant buzz of rain. Her cuts and bruises had been diligently tended to, her tattered clothing replaced by the clear-white of bandages and a simple weathered tunic that only barely stretched to her thighs. Beside her bed, her sword was propped against a wall, returned once more to its leather sheath.
How long has it been?
Eshwlyn rose to her feet and left her room, slowly creaking the musty floorboards below deck, an arm pressing firmly into her waist, still feeling the edge of a blade deeply embedded.
At once, she snapped her eyes left-across to the other end of the ship, the opened door of another room-Tilina did not look to be in her chamber, which could only mean...
Wincing, shambling, Eshwlyn made her way above surface, the clear blue light of high noon immediately scorching her eyes. Her ears twitched, wriggling... struggling to make sense of all the discordant melodies filling the calm and serene ocean breeze.
The Hermelian crew was bustling up and about, relaying their song and hymns in what seemed to be a coordinated chorus of commands, as they threw themselves into the busywork of patching up the ruined aftermath of their fight, realigning the masts, replacing the floorboards, and reorganizing scattered crates, and at the sight of her, their beady eyes almost seem to glare, their melodies turning low, almost reproachful.
.....
Eshwlyn avoided their leers, funneling her gaze towards the helm of the ship, where she quickly spotted the Hermlian Captain, big and imposing, his webbed-feet and inflated size easily sounding a wet resounding spalt with every step, and there beside him, smaller and yet just as much a prominent sigh, the striking red of Tilina’s locks stood in stark contrast to the blue of the ocean and skies in an almost dignified flutter.
A jarring, unpleasant noise was echoing from their side, with the Captain’s swelled jaw billowing a harsh, grating melody seemingly without end. Tilina simply paid heed to it in its entirety, and even with a respectful bow given twice, the giant Hermelian could not be even in the slightest placated, and at one point, sang a note so painfully shrill that everyone nearest within the vicinity immediately recoiled and collapsed to the floor with the sole exception of the Knight herself, who ultimately withstood it with only the tiniest hint of a grimace etched in her vacant expression.
When the Captain’s bulging jaw had finally deflated into a sagging lump of moist skin, Tilina bowed once more, hummed the tiniest melody, and quickly dismissed herself, taking a grimy rag draped over the railing of the ship, huddling over at one end, before attempting to wipe away the bloody dry stains strewn across the deck.
Eshwlyn found herself ambling forward again before she was even aware of it. There was nothing she felt, nothing she wanted to say, after the prior night’s incident, after all the yelling, the screaming, the fighting, it seemed only natural to want to keep far at bay... and yet... she could not help herself but to keep shuffling closer and closer towards her nonetheless.
Her pace grew shorter, quieter over time, almost as if wanting not to be heard, to be seen. But soon, as her afternoon shadow loomed and casted over the Knight’s hunched figure, she knew there was no way she could escape a confrontation now.
Gradually, the thin rag in her hands slowed to a stop. A silence came-frozen-a bundle of crimson hair hiding the entirety of her expression. Between them, a peculiar tension began to take root, then the moment passed, and she began scrubbing the rugged floorboards once more.
“You should be resting,” Tilina suddenly said and had Eshwlyn not seen the slightest movement of her lips, she would have thought she had simply imagined it. “Your wounds are too great for you to stress them as you are. We are at sea, should they worsen... there’s only very little I can do.”
This close, this near, Eshwlyn could clearly see the repercussions of last night. Tilina’s voice was raspy, forced... her neck bearing the bruised imprints of clenched fingers, and her skin was deathly pale with the sickly hue of fatigue. There was no weight to her words either, no life, emotion... as if a rotting corpse had uttered them in her stead.
Such a haunting sight, she couldn’t help but ask, “And what of you?”
“What of me?” Tilina repeated the question back. “It is not I that holds any great value. Not I whose life bears any great meaning. It is not my wounds, my injuries that need tending to the most. After all, I am not you.”
There wasn’t even a sliver of resentment, her tone retained no lingering animosity from the night before... it had all gone now... and alone in her voice echoed only the cold, dull note of acceptance.
“Have you... have you heard from Master by any chance?” Eshwlyn asked, not knowing what else to say.
“No, I have not,” Tilina responded stiffly.
Silence again.
“I also overheard your conversation with the Captain,” She went on. “I assume he wishes for us to aid in the-”
“I am to help mend the damages,” Tilina said, her voice with an edge. “You are to simply lay and rest.”
“I am rested enough,” Eshwlyn lowered herself, begging to raise a hand. “Here, let me help y-”
“Just go to bed, Eshwlyn!” Tilina snapped at her, whirling a harsh glare towards her startled gaze. “This is my penance to bear, not yours! Your injuries, this incident, this outcome, solely mine to encumber! You’ve already defeated me, taken my place, my purpose... and now you dare try and take my only act of repentance too?!”
It was the most shocking thing. And she had only just seen it, realized it. Suddenly Tilina looked no longer like the invulnerable, invincible Knight that Eshwlyn had been so accustomed to seeing. The unwavering strength in her eyes no longer shining. It was trembling, shaking... and for once... the mighty Elf in front of her had never looked so vulnerable... fearful...
“No,” Eshwlyn immediately said. “Please, I did not mean to...”
“What you mean, what you intend, I care not, you understand? I don’t care! I-” The Knight trailed away, veering away again. “Eshwlyn, I am... I am greatly distraught, and your presence is not helping to alleviate matters. I want to think, I want to be left alone. Let me focus, let me clean, let me distract myself from the present moment. I want to escape and if you truly wish to help, if you mean to aid me, then I beg of you, please...”
She breathed, her voice turning into a soft plead, beginning to scrub away again, as a droplet of water suddenly soaked into her rag, and yet, strangely enough, it was not raining.
“...just stay away from me.”
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