Fractured Dreams (Tiz/Charlotte, B)

[Tiz]

Stepping through the door of his flat, Tiz sighed heavily in relief. Home. It wasn't often he got to come here and just be at rest... But now, with his court-ordered ban from Santaruz, he knew it would be best to take some time off from the bustle of things and put his mind at ease while he slept, enjoyed his free time, and stayed as far away from Santaruz as he possibly could. Still, though, in his heart he longed to finish the business that had been started that night-- he longed to solve the tensions between the two countries, and with Laus as his homeland, he would make every effort to see its citizens well fed and cared for, and if Santaruz was denying them food and medicine, even if it WAS by smuggling caravan...

He knew tensions were high. Tiz ran a hand through his messy hair, displeased, and took a seat on his bet. He set his feet down. The last time he had been able to stay here, it was when Myscha had come, and now every time he looked at his floor he thought of her. She wasn't here. His room was empty, save for the candlelight, and for his own presence. It was dead silent, the kind of silent that put him uneasy, wishing for company. He always wished for company, and more often than not, he wished for her company.

It was stupid, he told himself... It was only one night. And he had learned very little about her. But he was Sacaean, and his mother's words rang true in his head-- "As for us, my dear, the soul is found in the eyes, easily transparent: for one can hide feelings behind words, but not behind eyes." It was something the Cathecassa tribe had believed and expressed, and Tiz had found it to be true... He thought of her eyes that night, the way they turned vulnerable at his touch, the way she flashed bits and pieces of her hidden soul behind the oceanic blue orbs. He had gotten to know her that night, not through physicality, not through the expression of love, not even through words, but by the way her honest being lurched forth slowly, unwillingly, in her gazes. Tiz laid back on his bed, taking his sword off of his hip.

The man had paid his bounty earlier that day, and promptly left Santaruz, expecting to not return even beyond his thirty-day ban.

He breathed out to himself slowly, closing his eyes. "I gotta get out of here," he said under his breath.

-----

His walk had taken him a fair bit out of Laus itself, into the neighboring woods and hills. He hiked up one of them, finding an open clearing on a hill. A high hill, upon which stood a large tree, and it overlooked the gates of Laus, only about half a mile away by his estimation. He could see the entire city from this spot, and it was detached enough that it gave him a place to think, a place to reason over the troubles of his world. More than anything, he wished Myscha could be here to answer his questions about life, the way she had before, before she disappeared.

Tiz took a seat under the tree, leaning against its trunk, pulling one of his legs up so he could rest an arm over it. He stared out at the city of Laus, the orange and yellow dimly lit windows shining out like fireflies among the buildings, slowly going out as the end of the night drew near. He wrestled silently with his thoughts, studying the beauty of his surroundings under a deep, blue sky.

[Charlotte]

Laus had never felt like home to Charlotte; in fact, there wasn’t a physical place in Elibe that truly felt like her home. She had no family to speak of, no childhood town or home she really considered herself from besides the amalgamation of islands that were the Western Isles. Sure, she owned her small house in Laus, but it was used more as a storage shed than anything. There was nothing that made it a home for her, nothing that made her long to be back there besides a fresh change of clothes.

Recently, though, Laus felt different from any other place. She didn’t long for it, but rather felt pulled back to the territory, back to the capitol. It didn’t make sense to her, because once she arrived back, all she’d wanted to do was leave again. She’d thought getting out of Santaruz, away from the place she’d crossed paths again with… him, would help her regain her composure.

But back in Laus, in her own house, there was nothing she could think of but him. She’d passed by his apartment on her own, not surprised to find it empty, so she’d also asked one of her colleagues working in Santaruz to send her a message if there was any word of the man’s name in the courts. While their drop-off had been a success with the border towns, and her personal job had netted her a hefty sum of gold and a reference for another job, Charlotte had still found herself anxiously wondering what had come of him after he’d dragged the guards away from the tunnel.

Now lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, Charlotte counted the cracks in her ceiling, much like she had with the walls of the cellar in the Isles. It was something to take her mind off of her racing thoughts, but it was doing little to help. Constantly losing count, the blonde grew frustrated more than anything. She wanted to sate her curiosity, know where the man had gone, why-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. The blonde sprung up from her bed, quickly walking over to the door and opening it a crack, revealing a hooded man who quickly shoved a letter through the crack in the door. “Tell Balsam Cherry says hello.”

“Hah,” Charlotte chuckled amusedly, taking the letter and, after whispering a quick ‘thanks,’ shut the door behind her. It seemed she couldn’t open the envelope fast enough, ripping one of the edges clean off as she pulled the letter out. Unfolding the parchment, the young consultant’s eyes poured over the messily-written script, a frown twisting her features as she finished. Folding the letter and stowing it away in her pocket, Charlotte quickly put on her boots, lacing them effortlessly before quickly exiting the house.

Sunset wouldn’t darken the city for another hour or so, which gave Charlotte time to seek out Tiz. She still wasn’t sure what it was about his involvement in all this that bothered her so, but at least being able to question him about it, rather than come to her own conclusions, might provide her some relief. Maybe then she’d be able to leave the thoughts of the man behind and move on, get focused again.

The first place she stalked past was, again, his apartment. Passing through the same courtyard they’d met in over a month ago now, she quietly walked up the stairs to his door, peeking in through the windows to find it just as empty as the last time she’d passed by. She’d have sworn this would be where he’d come after everything that had transpired in Santaruz, but apparently her instincts were wrong. She didn’t like being wrong.

“Tiz, where are you?” she whispered under her breath, quickly descending the stairs. Maybe he hadn’t made it back from Santaruz yet, maybe he was still traveling. In any case, the blonde wasn't going to find him just waiting around here.

[Tiz]

Tiz's eyes shot open. He hadn't even realized he was tired.

He blinked twice rapidly, shaking the mild sleepiness from his eyes, looking back out over the town. It was getting late... Tiz knew he'd spent enough time off to himself, weighing the events of his recent past heavily. He fought an internal battle with himself, wondering if his actions had been justified, but more importantly, he wondered about the Lycian state of affairs. If things got bad, he would reinstate in the military, join the ranks again... It was his only option. But if things worked themselves out, he could stay unaffiliated... He preferred that route, but after what had happened a few nights ago, he wasn't sure. He couldn't be sure about anything. And Myscha..

The young man shook his head and let out a short, disgruntled sigh. He picked himself off and ran a hand through his messy hair, deciding to head back home. He pulled the hood over his cloak and headed back into town the way he had come, back through the treeline and to the gate. His flat, fortunately, wasn't far from the entrance gates; it was a short walk to that little hill. He told himself he would make it back there again soon; it was a good place to reflect. Reflection might become a daily habit, he thought to himself...

By this point, the man realized that most of the townsfolk had gone inside for the night; he didn't know how late it was, but he figured it was getting close to check-in time. The shops had all closed down, and the only people out were near taverns, and even then, they were few and far between. Hood held high over the top of his head, Tiz walked quietly towards his flat. Even though he was still welcome in Laus, his face had appeared on a few posters in town-- someone clearly had become displeased with his affairs; he was an "unruly citizen", by some accounts, and apparently someone had taken it upon themselves to fight for the social justice of Laus. Tiz sighed, walking past a poster with his face on it. It was stupid. He wasn't a wanted criminal.

Opening the door to the staircase that lead to his flat, he immediately froze. There was no way.

"Tiz, where are you?"

There was no mistaking the voice, nor the appearance. At first, he didn't lower his hood-- she had walked right past him on his way back to his room. She was... searching for him? His heart soared, but he was confused. She wasn't... He hadn't even heard from her since the caravan incident. What did she need? Whatever it was, he was thrilled to see her. Myscha. He turned as she passed him, walking on. The young man lowered his hood, fixing his green eyes on the back of her head, wide with wonder.

"Myscha," he breathed, only loudly enough for her to hear it. He stood in the doorframe, stunned, watching her move.

[Charlotte]

Where could she go to look for the man next? Consumed in her thoughts, Charlotte moved past the hooded man in the narrow hallway with barely a nod of acknowledgement. She had no real reason to find Tiz save for sating her own interests, calming her own state of mind. At the same time, though, she still felt a twinge of worry that the information she’d received might not be true; he should have made the trip back by now, should he?

Then, she heard it: ”Myscha.” The whispered name caused the blonde to stop dead in her tracks, a chill coursing through her body as if a cool wind had blown past. Her mind unwillingly reminded her of the only other time she’d heard the man say her name in that same, breathy tone, bringing an uncomfortable tightness to her chest. Closing her eyes for a moment and breathing out of her nose, the blonde composed herself before turning around.

Almost instantly Charlotte’s eyes locked with Tiz’s, and relief washed over her. She was upset that she'd been caught checking up on him, but at the same time, all she could think was he had made it out of Santaruz, which meant Cherry’s information had been good. A month ban from their neighboring territory was a minor punishment for what he’d done, even if it had been just a case of ‘wrong place, wrong time.’ A lesser man with lesser connections could have been left to rot in prison, or worse.

But that wasn’t a reality thankfully, Charlotte thought as she looked over the man. Knowing that he had made it back to Laus in one piece was nearly enough to quell the anxious thoughts and feelings that had been plaguing her, nearly enough to allow her to simply turn on her heel and go back to the way she believed things needed to be. But there was still one question she had, one question which she needed to know the answer to, which kept her facing the Sacaen, crossing her arms as she smiled weakly. The man had seen her in the midst of her work, and she needed to know why he had been there to do so.

“Hey,” the blonde replied; the lone word embodied the myriad of emotions she was feeling at the moment, though the most prominent of them was distant. She couldn’t allow herself to be sucked in again, no matter how wonderful the last time had been. There was a purpose for being here, and once it was done she could go again.

“I was passing by, wanted to see if you’d made it back…” Charlotte’s speech trailed off, trying not to show the concern she’d been feeling. While Tiz wore his heart on his sleeve, the blonde did anything but, or at least tried to. She’d been faltering as of late, most of the time around the shaggy haired Sacaen. “I-I’m glad you’re okay.”

[Tiz]

Tiz tried to assess the seriousness of the situation, his heart heavy with affection, and yet he couldn't help the wide, goofy, toothy smile breaking out across his lips, flashing his teeth at her as she approached. She looked guarded, different than before; perhaps she was wounded, in some state different than the last time he had seen her. She seemed different, at least in this way, and while he had been worried about her before, he was the most worried about her right now. Not only was she guarded, she was uncharacteristically beside herself with conflict. If she had any conflict in the past, he hadn't noticed it, but now it was as apparent as anything else. He lowered his head a bit to be more level with hers. Instinctively, without thinking, he placed his hand on the side of her shoulder, reaching out to connect with her again.

Passing by? This confused him. That wasn't her style. She was speaking to him... strangely, he thought. Last time she had been so fluid and silver and charming, and she seemed... Worried? Was she worried about him? Of all the questions whirling through Tiz's mind, none came to mind as more important than making sure she was okay, or if she could be made okay. "Yeah, I... Yeah, I'm okay. I'm okay." He said softly, nodding his head once. His green eyes flashed between her blue ones and her lips as she spoke. "I'm glad you're okay, Myscha. I was... I figured you would be alright, but I had no way of knowing, and I..." he was talking a thousand miles a minute, and when he realized this, he blushed a little, and offered a characteristic laugh and slight smile.

He grabbed her hand. "Let's go, I'll make you tea." He lead her back up the stairs and unlocked the door to his room, and after pulling her inside, shut it and locked it behind him. He took his cloak and sword off of his person, tossing them at the foot of his bed for the time being. He outstretched his hand to offer the beautiful woman a seat on his bed, the most comfortable place in his home.

Immediately, he went over to his stove and began boiling a pot of water. He would've whistled quietly to himself, but the young man couldn't help but think of the last time Myscha was in his home. It had been, he'd decided, one of the greatest nights of his life, and he only wondered what tonight would be like, although... He felt differently about it, as if something had changed; he felt as if there was some pressing danger, some pressure in the room that would eventually make itself known.

While leaving the water to boil, Tiz came and sat down on his bed right next to the woman that had, by this point, nearly stolen his heart in glances alone. "Are you alright?"

[Charlotte]

Charlotte tried to keep her distance from the man, but she did not draw away as the man drew closer and touched her shoulder, as if trying to bridge the invisible gap the blonde was forcing between them. She tried averting her eyes for a moment, but the blonde quickly found them locked again with the man’s own. Something about the forest green orbs demanded that she maintain eye contact with them, even if their demand was in a gentle, caring way. It was troubling, how little she felt she could do to keep him from getting close to her, how little she wanted to do.

Tiz’s verbal reassurances were comforting, if not redundant, since the woman could see no injuries inhibiting him. What interested her more was the pattern of his speech, the disquiet in his eyes. He stuttered over his words, much like she had, and the look in his eyes further spoke to the relative unease it seemed had come over him with her appearance. This was why she’d said it would be better not to see one another again. Nothing good could come from such a trepidatious reunion like this.

And yet, Tiz showed no hesitation as he reached out, assuming her compliance in coming up for a cuppa. “Oh, I shouldn’t-” Charlotte mumbled as he slipped his hand around hers, ignoring her weak attempt at a protest as he led her back up the stairs she’d just come down. His hand was smooth in hers, save for a few calluses that had toughened the places where his sword would sit. Suddenly her mind again brought another unwilling thought, this time back to the forest, back to when his blade had not hesitated in piercing through the Santaruz soldier’s heart. She had been just as powerless then to stop him, much like she was now.

Shaking the thought from her mind, Charlotte resigned herself to being whisked into Tiz’s apartment, sitting down on his bed as she had on the first eve they’d met. She did everything she could not to recollect the memories of that hallowed night, closing her eyes; she needed to focus on gathering what she needed to know and leave. Why was she so harried, what in the world had come over her?

As soon as he had started the pot, Tiz left it to join her, again closing the gap between them, asking the three words she didn’t even know the answer to herself right now. But she would not, could not tell him what she was feeling; it didn’t matter anyways, seeing as she’d be fine once she knew what she wanted to know.

“Of course,” the blonde said, shifting on the bed; she had opened her eyes, but she had not brought her gaze to his yet. She didn’t think she could while they sat together on the bed. “It’s just been a long few days.” Her half-arsed attempt to deflect his concerns did little to convince even her, but she let it be the lingering thought for a few moments, hanging over them in the silence of the room before she sighed.

“Why were you in Santaruz with the guard?” Charlotte asked bluntly, finally allowing her eyes to drift up and meet his. She could feel her chest wanting to pull towards him, but she resisted, again knowing nothing good could come of that now. “And why didn’t you come when I called?” Her second question was less pointed, as she tried to hide her frustration with the punishment he’d incurred while still wanting to know what in the world he’d been doing. She diverted her eyes from his again, looking forward to the opposite wall.

[Tiz]

With a million thoughts swirling through Tiz's mind, none were so poignant as the one that considered how detached and refrained Myscha was, how she obviously had walled herself up, maybe for this encounter alone, but maybe in general-- there was no way for him to know. Even if she was naturally introverted, this type of defense seemed... Different than the type of defense she had last time. Last time, it had been easy for him to slip in, easy to get a taste of just who she was, even if he had been lied to... And if he had, he still wasn't sure of it. He had a million questions, but he knew better than not answering hers before asking his own. He was retracted the hand that was behind her as a sign of giving her space, his green eyes became careful and considerate, trying to get a read on her visually; he was Sacaean, after all, and when he was a child, the best way to get reads on people were to study them, listening to them while they spoke. But this Myscha... it was almost as if time and experience had whittled away her ability to be forthcoming, or otherwise open to him. Regardless of their last night they had spend together, Tiz was worried about this woman for more than just her feelings towards him. He could tell something was wrong. His own eyes reflected this thought in him.

A rough couple of days... Sure enough, Tiz thought. She wasn't wrong. A few silent moments filling the air, the swordsman couldn't decide whether to address her concern or not. It seemed uncharacteristically plain for her; then again, Tiz had to remind himself, he didn't know her as well as he wanted to. He looked down at his feet as she addressed the far wall with her eyes, and immediately he wished he could talk to them instead; they were much more telling than the side of her head, beautiful though it may be. Tiz sighed heavily, simply nodding in response. Yeah, all things aside, it had been a rough couple of days. But it told him that her "of course" was completely fraudulent.

Ignoring it for only a moment, pushing it out of his head entirely, Tiz got up to address the pot of boiling water before the woman. He was scared, above all, the hairs on his skin standing up, and he was shaking internally. A feeling of doubt, a lingering feeling of fear, and a desire to know what was going on wracked his body almost physically. He dipped a handful of ground leaves and nuts from a container and into the pot which now sat off the stove.

"Well, I guess I've got some explaining to do after all." He turned his head back to her, giving her a side view, and flashed a smile, glancing her over with his eyes again before turning back around. He waited a few moments for the drink to steep, then poured two saucers full of the hot tea and brought it over to the bed, offering Myscha a cup, then taking one for himself. Instead of rejoining her on the bed, he stood opposite her, leaning against a small table not but a foot or two away from where she sat. He sighed heavily, deciding he did owe her an answer; after all, it probably would've shocked her to see him that night. It certainly shocked him to her that night, though he was intent on saving that line of questioning for later.

Tiz cleared his throat, looking out the window to detach himself before beginning. "It was... Well, I guess it was a military favor." He swirled his tea around his cup, declining to actually drink it. He thought it might actually make him sick if he did. "My old superior officer from the League wrote me to tell me about trade embargo, and asked for my assistance. As a friend I guess, I don' know. It wasn't my affair, and he made that clear enough in his letter, but it was a matter concerning the state, so he knew I would care." He nodded his head, his eyebrows raising as he explained. "And of course I did. Of course I did. I made the assumption that they were simply reaching out to me because they trusted me, but... It seems like it might be more than that. Honestly, Myscha, I'm not sure they roped me in innocently... It could've been to keep Lausian hands from getting dirty. If that's the case, well... I'll have some words for the Marquess." Tiz stared out the window, his smile weak-- real, but weak. "To be fair," he continued, finally moving his eyes slowly to meet hers. "If theirs had gotten dirty, we'd have civil war on our hands. Guess I'll take a fine and a thirty day ban over civil war." His smile was a little brighter as he looked her in the eyes, the green and blue hues clashing in the air between them. He wanted to badly to kiss her again.

He looked down at his cup. He hadn't touched his tea... And now he didn't really want to. He set it on the table beside him, then folded his arms and looked at her again as he addressed her. This time, he refused to break eye contact. As he studied her, he almost couldn't speak, especially considering the look on her face as she begged to know why he hadn't run when she had called. He smiled weakly again, nodding, his eyes still trained on hers, watching her speak. He had to get something. He had to find something in her that he could read. But he wouldn't sit with her. He couldn't. It would make him too weak, too vulnerable to her offhanded distance, her shields and defenses. Was that true? Is that what he was telling himself?

"Myscha..." He began, feeling the sweet name leave his lips happily, thrilled to have even been able to say it again in her presence; whether or not it was her real name was of no import right now. It was how he could address her, and he was thrilled to even be able to address her as such. "If I had run, things would've gone south. Fast. If I had, they would've roped my name in with the smuggling ring, and my primary motivation there was to keep Lausian interests at heart. The Santaruz guard needed to know I wasn't affiliated with the mercenary contract and the smuggling ring."

It was so, so hard to lie to her face. His own face dropped as he did. He knew that wasn't it... She probably did, too.


"I just... Myscha, I--" He fought a battle with himself. He couldn't look at her, much as he'd promised he wouldn't break eye contact. He could feel his throat and chest tighten. His grip around his arms tightened too. "I couldn't let them catch you. If I had followed you, the whole guard would've been on the caravan. I-I needed... to make sure you got away safely."

He still couldn't look at her, no matter how hard he tried.

[Charlotte]

A breathy ‘thanks’ tumbled from her lips as Charlotte accepted the cup from Tiz, tearing her eyes from the wall to look at the Sacaen again as he stood across from her. The cup of tea began to warm her hands as he looked away from her; though she preferred it for their welfare, it still woed her to think how the two couldn’t seem to look the other in the eye for more than a few moments, unlike their first meeting when their gazes had been locked most of the night.

Sipping the hot, fragranced liquid, Charlotte kept her eyes on the man as he explained his place in the whole mess that had been that transport. From what he described it sounded like Tiz had been manipulated into getting involved, and the thought frustrated her even more than she’d been before. How could he not have seen it? How could he have gotten involved so blindly? He owed nothing to those men now that he wasn’t serving under the League, so what was the use in getting mixed up in their petty affairs when it hadn’t benefitted him in any way?

Her gaze breaking from his, the blonde shook her head. The man didn’t deserve being relegated to a simple scapegoat, but he spoke of himself as if that was all he could have done in the situation, as if he’d somehow deserved that role. No, she wouldn’t accept that, it was simply to self-depreciating. Tiz was a skilled fighter, and much wiser than his happy-go-lucky appearance let on - men who’d been through something life-changing like Ostia often were. So he had no excuse, in her opinion, no way to disparaging his faulty involvement away.

Taking another sip of her small cup of tea, Charlotte sighed as soon as she lowered the cup, looking down at the toes of her boots and brow furrowed in thought as he answered her second question. She’d grown very good at listening and looking for the tells of lying, so she knew almost instantly that he was lying to her. The difficulty speaking, the stillness in his stance, even the slight change in his breathing: he, like her, was building up a lie around him as a shield, much like she had been doing - or at least trying to do.

No, he’d gone to too much length to explain why he’d let the caravans get away without coming with them. Even if he’d been working with the guard like he said, Charlotte knew he was omitting some part of his reasoning. It was killing her that she didn’t know, couldn’t seem to figure it out.

Setting the now empty cup of tea to the side, Charlotte rested her right knuckle on her mouth for just a moment, having subconsciously decided the ‘you’ he’d said had meant the carts, and not something else. “The carts would have made it regardless; we were in the tunnel before the rest of the guard showed up.”

Lowering her hand, the woman crossed her arms; her growing vexation was brimming. “And if you were trying to protect yourself, protect Laus, whatever the case, you’d not have killed one of the guard, wouldn’t have helped me back to the carts; that alone could have implicated you. Tiz,” the young woman said exasperatedly, her chilly words spilling out quicker than she could control, “all you had to do was jump in after me. You’d not have had to go through the courts, lost the three-thousand gold…”

Shifting on the bed, Charlotte sighed heavily; she couldn’t sit idle. Rising to her feet, she walked over to the window, gazing out of it with her arms still crossed. “Killing that guard, Tiz, that could have spurred a civil war. Any blood shed over this embargo simply justifies its existence to the Marquesses.” She looked back over her shoulder, seeing the man with his still-averted gaze. Even if she’d been just as dodgy, the blonde was beginning to find herself irked, but she did not vocalize it. Instead, she uncomfortably focused her gaze on him, waiting for him to respond, acknowledge her retort.

[Tiz]

"Here, I'll get it."

Tiz walked over to the empty cup and saucer that Myscha had laid beside her, once she stood up to gaze out the window. He stopped a moment, listening to her, watching her as she almost scolded him. His hands couldn't reach the cup. He was transfixed on her now, as if the fact that she wasn't looking at him at the moment allowed him the pleasure of looking at the woman he'd spend the night with, the guarded woman who now, becoming more guarded, was beginning to dig into him, and not in the way that he might've liked. She wanted answers, much like he did, and she didn't seem to understand his heart. That was fine... A woman with as many secrets as she had, Tiz thought, had no reason to understand his heart. Yet, it guided him solely, and surely she could understand that. Maybe the case was that she didn't want to understand it... The swordsman didn't know. As she turned her gaze back towards him, he quickly looked away, pretending as if he hadn't been watching her. He took her dish to his wash basin in the kitchen, setting it down, neglecting to wash it.

As she spoke, Tiz leaned his arms against the edge of the counter away from her, bowing his head low. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, listening to her. As soon as she began speaking again, he slammed his hands down, fists curled, onto the counter.

"No, damn it! How do you know? You say you would've gotten away, but you don't know that, Myscha!" He wheeled around and looked at her; his eyes looked like those of a man crying, yet there were no tears. Yet. His green eyes were wounded, worried, fierce, and vulnerable. He couldn't decline himself the opportunity to look her in the eye any longer.

Pacing back to her slowly, Tiz spoke again, not breaking eye contact this time. "Listen to me." he began softly, kindly, much more kindly than his sudden outburst before had been. "I just..." He bit his lip. "Laus is my home. The Lycian people, they're--they're MY people, they're my--" he couldn't. It wasn't true. He loved Lycia, he loved Laus, but he knew Sacae was his home. But he did feel honorbound, struck by his duty to help when asked for help. "Gods damn it, I can't do this."

Tiz leaned against the wall, not looking out the window like Myscha was, but he stood next to her, looking away towards his front door. "The minute I saw you there, Myscha, my plans changed. Honestly, at first, I was there because I had been requested by the Marquess himself, so I figured he had personally picked me out because he trusted me. Now, I don't know that that's true anymore. I'm not sure. But it... it didn't matter once I saw you there. Once I realized you were involved," he continued, realizing he still didn't know why she was involved, "when I saw you..."

He shook his head, feeling almost as though if he told her, he would break down. He knew he could control himself, but his emotions always ran high... And they ran highest around her. "Lycia became secondary. You became primary." He finally looked up at her, his eyes still the same as before. He met her gaze and refused to break it, allowing the silence to fill the space for him.

Closing his eyes and biting his lip again, Tiz looked away and folded his arms, gripping his biceps with force. "I would've been fine either way," he deflected, trying to talk himself out of the hole he was digging. "I'm not in the League anymore. For all intents and purposes, I'm a civilian, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. They... they just labeled me a disturbance of the peace, and I paid my fine and am doing my time, and it's just..."

His Sacaean nature was showing through. His honor, his heart, and his loyalty were truly at his core, much as he had run from it all when he joined the League, as much racism as he'd put up with in the beginning. "It was all worth it to make sure you were safe. Not the carts. Not the smuggling operation. Hell, not even the goods and the medicine. Those things were important, but I..." His eyes fell to the floor, right in front of his feet, and his eyelids dropped.

He shook his head slowly. "For you. It was worth it to me for you. I was afraid for you. And I don't know why."

[Charlotte]

A look of sudden shock on her face, Charlotte jumped as soon as the man slammed the counter, but she did not turn away at the unexpected outburst. She’d never think a man as calm and carefree as Tiz could get this angry - a foolish assumption, of course, but the few times they’d crossed paths just hadn’t lent to to this kind of reaction. But she wasn’t scared, no; if a simple temper could frighten her away, she wouldn’t have come looking for the man in the first place. She was here for a reason, one she would not abandon because of an outburst.

“Well you don’t know we wouldn’t have! Don’t tell me that’s different, because-” While Charlotte tried to combat his retort, she took pause as soon as he turned, his wild, upset eyes trained on her as he interjected again, though his speech was kinder this time, more even-tempered and delicate. But she could tell the moment he spoke again, he was lying, an even worse lie that before - he was Sacaen, after all. She knew better than to think he felt obliged to the people of Lycia, at least in the way he described. That kind of intense nationalism only manifested after years and years of devotion to one's native country, and the man she trepidatiously looked at was not that type, at least from her initial impression.

“Then just tell me why,” Charlotte pushed as he admitted to his failed attempt at a lie. But she quickly realized she wished she hadn’t, that she wished he’d been able to perpetuate his lie. They had just met weeks ago, hadn’t they? They’d shared one passionate, intense night, but that was all it was… wasn’t it?

It wasn’t often the woman felt self-conscious, but as Tiz kept going, she felt more exposed than when she had when she’d laid next to him, naked in the bed just across the room. It felt as if her heart would burst from her chest with how quickly it was pulsing, her breathing quickened as well. She finally looked away again as his eyes met hers, her face burning with a wild mixture of emotions - embarrassment, fear, anger, discomfort and simultaneous comfort.

As the sensation moved through the rest of her body, Charlotte again moved, though she was unsure of where she was going. The flat was small, but all the blonde wanted to do was be as far away from the man as possible. She could barely listen as he spoke, hands beginning to quiver as he admitted his punishment, his struggle had been worth it... for her. She could have been sick, not because of what he said, but because of what it simultaneously made her realize. Maybe he didn’t know why, but she did, and she had to put an end to it, now. Now she was the one who moved to the counter, placing her hands on the cool surface to keep them from shaking.

“This is ridiculous,” the woman mumbled, her words almost a frustrated gasp. “I’m sorry,” she said louder, still leaning over the counter, eyes shut. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come back. Look… you don’t need to worry about me. I’ll recoup you the gold you lost, and then that will be that. I can’t have the ban lifted, but at least you’ll have your coin back. It’ll be like none of this happened.”

Pushing off of the counter, Charlotte didn’t look Tiz’s way as she turned towards the door; she didn’t want to see the look in the man’s eyes at her cold, unfeeling words. All she needed to do now was leave before he could react, say anything back to her. She bit her lip, her heart still surging in her chest, as if it was telling her she was wrong to do this. But she knew she was right. Being wrong would mean a whole other world of trouble she couldn’t afford to be wrapped up in. Neither of them could.

[Tiz]

"Stop."

His voice was calm, soft, and smooth. In what might've appeared to be a soft flash, Tiz was at the door, right behind the woman as she faced it, his large hand wound gently around her wrist, as if to prevent her from leaving. His grip wasn't strong; it would be easy for her to leave, but he put his heart around his fingers, and his fingers around her wrist. He had placed himself right behind her with the speed of the wind, having moved silently and efficiently right behind her. His head towered over hers, and he was close enough to study the fibers of her hair, the color of her skin, and the smell that radiated from her very being. She was intoxicating, and to let her leave would be too painful. He couldn't do it. Tiz couldn't do.

And yet, he let almost a full sixty seconds go by before addressing the woman again, his hand still gently around her wrist. His voice was as calm and smooth as before, as if the wavering and emotion had settled enough for his intention to shine through to her. Tiz closed his eyes, letting his head fall gently atop hers, so his chin rested softly upon the crown of her head.

"I don't need gold. I don't need recompense, Myscha." He tightened his fingers around her wrist, as if it were her hand that he was holding. "I don't need any of that. I need..."

You.

He couldn't say it. He couldn't bring himself to say it. It didn't make any sense, and he could almost literally feel his heart pounding against his chest, trying to break out of the body in which it was contained, so that it might sing the truth he hid behind his lips. Why did he need her? it was ridiculous, Tiz's mind told his heart, he didn't need anyone. He was self-sufficient, had hardly known the girl... Their electricity had been for one night, right?

Then why had it lasted this long? Why did it continue even now?

He sighed. He wouldn't let go of her until she forced herself away, which would be easy for her, the Sacaean thought. He could no longer lie to her. He had tried, and it had weighed him down too much. He resolved in that moment to not hide himself. "Myscha, there's nothing you can do that will make it so it never happened. I... got myself in trouble trying to protect you." He thought about her comment, the question about how different it was, protecting her versus the caravan... But he didn't address it. He knew it was different. If she didn't understand, she would. Someday. He hoped...

He smiled a little, the typical carefree tone in his voice making itself so faintly present that she might just hear it. "Human lives are always worth more than gold," he said softly, his eyes still closed as he rested his jaw atop her head. "And yours alone is worth more than my bounty, to say the least."

He would've chuckled, if his body would've allowed it.

[Charlotte]

Charlotte could have kept moving, could have just left then and there and broken the man’s heart without having to look him in the eye to do it. But as soon as his hand gently clasped her wrist, every muscle in her body froze. Her fingers were wrapped around the door handle, but as much as she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to turn it, not with him so close to her. Her chest still felt as if it would collapse in on itself. She shut her eyes tightly as what felt like tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. Since when had she allowed herself to be moved so by someone? How could one man hold this much power over her?

The silence was stifling, the blonde sure she might never escape the eternal moment, waiting to hear what he would say. A million things came to her, things she could say to make him let her go, but she could not voice them, could not bear to speak past the intensity of the built-up emotional turmoil that had frozen her. A sigh escaped her slightly parted lips as she felt him rest his chin atop the crown of her head, the hum of his voice echoing in her very soul as he spoke, his fingers tightening around her wrist. A hundred men, she’d been able to leave behind without a second thought, without a passing glance. But this man - this pure, wonderful man - kept her here, for reasons she didn’t want to know, didn’t want to feel.

Tiz didn’t have to finish his thought for Charlotte to know what he had wanted to say. While her eyes were still clenched shut, desperately trying to quell the rise of emotion within her, she could not prevent the crashing wave. For the first time since she’d been in that dank cellar in the Western Isles, a silent sob shook the woman’s body. She should have just left, shouldn’t have stayed to hear him out. In the silence of his omitted admission, Charlotte whispered.

“Tiz, please...”

But he did not heed her request; no, she held no power here, not in his domain. He was no fool, and she wouldn’t be able to convince him to forget all of this, to just walk away like she wanted, needed him to. Tears she’d so desperately fought broke free of their lidded prison, two tumbling down her cheeks as he finished, his words still buzzing through her person even when he fell silent. The hand that had been wrapped around the door handle shot to her face, quickly wiping away what evidence they could of the shed tears. She could not let the man see her upset by this; it would do nothing but convince him there was hope for this.

After another long moment, Charlotte finally turned to face the man, her eyes likely a bit redder than she would have liked; suddenly she was overcome with the desire to slip her hands into his, to forgo what she had to say and just give in to what she was feeling. But she hadn’t spent the past seven years building up the walls that were her identity, her lifeblood, her chance at surviving this career she’d taken to have them torn down by one man.

“Tiz, I…” Charlotte started, her voice quivering as if she was some silly, weak maiden. “I don’t, I... can’t feel the same way.” Another unwilling tear loosed itself from the corner of her eye; it was as if some part of her on the inside shattered, crumbled as she said the only words she thought could convince him this wasn’t what they wanted, what they needed. Even if it was. “You have to understand, it wouldn’t be fair to you. Just... think about how you found me again; do you think that's the only time I've been in that kind of situation? The very last thing I want is to cause you harm... and that’s all you’ll find down that road, feeling that way about me.”

Charlotte forced another sob that had risen in her throat to go back down, gently taking her hand back from the Sacaen man and crossing her arms as tightly as she could on her chest.

[Tiz]

Tiz's entire body shook a moment as he felt the physical sob come forth from the woman he held in his grasp, and his eyes shot open, wide with horror. He hadn't expected it... Not in the least. He hadn't ever seen her break down, and it seemed so uncharacteristic of her. In the seconds he spent with this shock in his system, Tiz was completely unable to concentrate; this woman, the woman who was beginning to wrap her warm fingers around his heart, was crying.

When she turned around to face him and begin speaking, he concentrated on her eyes, his own reflecting the feelings she held deeply inside of her. The problem with Tiz, the thing that made him so easy to read, was that his eyes always took the shape that reflected the emotions of the person to whom he was speaking. Perhaps it was the Sacaean in him, or perhaps it was his inability to control his emotions. Whatever the case, he couldn't feel anything except vulnerability and affection as he watched Myscha begin to deconstruct right in front of him, wrapping more deeply into herself.

Cocking his head ever so slightly to the side, a small, soft smile began to grace his lips as another tear rolled down Myscha's cheek. He very gently reached up and wiped it away from her with his thumb, ignoring her speech at first. He wrapped the hand back around her head, into the thick of her hair. He pulled her in close to him and kissed her forehead, letting his eyes shut and his lips linger there as he played very slowly with her hair, running his fingers gently but powerfully through it. He sighed while his lips remained on her forehead, and then he let her pull back away, and let his hand fall down to rest beside him as she wrapped her arms together, having broken away from his hold.

He smiled genuinely at her, and turned to walk back towards the window with a heavy sigh. He leaned his weight against it, staring outside to look up at the brilliance of the night, where the only light available came from the moon and the stars, the prominent white orb illuminating the streets and the rooftops with a brilliant grey sheen. It was bright enough to almost look like faux daytime, something the moon rarely did.

Looking down towards the streets, Tiz finally spoke, neglecting to look at the woman as she stood away from him, still by the door. He studied her voice, analyzing the way she quivered, completely opposite the type of defense she had put up the first time they had met. Before, she was so cool and collected, very easily and slyly pushing aside his line of questioning, declining the man any information, and now here she was, telling him that it would be best to simply let her go, to lay to rest the secrets that she still held within her crumbling walls.

Tiz turned his head back towards her, giving her half of his face as his green eye found her blue one from across the room. He thought about asking her if she couldn't feel this way, or if she didn't want to. They were two different cases, but... This wasn't the time. He knew better. It was too invasive, too accusatory... No, Tiz could feel it. This wasn't a farce. This woman legitimately wanted him to stay away, for his own interests. How sad, Tiz thought as his gaze dropped again.

"Myscha..." he began, slowly letting the potentially fake name drip out of his mouth, tasting sweetly despite the fact that he couldn't be certain that was her name. "It isn't my choice." he said, a slight upward inflection in his voice. He turned back to the stars.

"I can't tell you how to feel, or what to do. I can't stop you from leaving. I can't tell you that it'll all be okay, that you can trust me. I can't tell you to sit down on my bed and talk to me, and I can't tell you to dry your tears, that I will wipe them away for you as you let me in. I can't tell you to do any of it. I can't even ask you... I don't have the right."

"But... Myscha, I can't pretend that I haven't thought about you every day since I met you. Just like all the other things, I can't tell you that you haven't enveloped my heart with some mysterious power, something that caused me to kill the guard before he could stop you, to take on the Santaruz patrol before they could get to you. Because you have." He refused to turn and face her.

"Fairness is, unfortunately, a luxury. And if... if getting to spend my time with you means that life isn't fair to me anymore, well," he chuckled, albeit a little fake, regardless of his statements being genuine. "So it goes."

He turned his body to her, away from the window, leaning against the sill. Tiz folded his arms and looked at the woman. So badly, he wanted to reach out to her, to wrap his arms around her... But she wasn't his. She was wild and free, capable of making decisions in this moment that might affect her, and the last thing he wanted to do in these moments was to inauthenticate the ways she felt about him; a simple hug to be too much while she deliberated. He wasn't going to pick her path for her... He couldn't. He felt too strongly for her to let himself do that to her.

"Myscha, I think you need to understand something. Feeling this way about you has taken away from me the opportunity to feel the pain that you're talking about." He sounded naive, like a child, yet his face remained still and unchanging-- he knew he was serious. "You think that feeling this way about you leads down a road of pain, but what if it doesn't?"

He stepped towards her, though not completely closing the distance. Without realizing it, a tear rolled down his dirty cheek.

"I think there's so much to you that you neglect to tell me, and more than I want a fair life, more than I want a safe life, more than I want a less dangerous life, I want to know those things. I want to know you. I see you, Myscha, every time you look at me. I see your walls, and I see your pain and your suffering and I see what the life you have lived has done to you."

He sighed. "If you don't want to hurt me, don't lie to me. Look me in the eye, right now, and tell me what is inside of your heart."

[Charlotte]

His gaze, his touch, his lips… this was all too much for her. The soft touch of his lips on her forehead burned into her skull, not allowing her reprieve from all this. She was trying to hard to create that distance, to keep the divide there, but Tiz kept bridging the gap, ignoring the signs she waved in front of him, telling him to turn away, run and get out while he still could. She’d have called him a fool if she too wasn’t tangled in in this whole mess of feelings.

As he drew away, relief washed over Charlotte, not because she wanted him to, but because it afforded her a moment to recompose herself, outside of his sphere of influence. And yet, she still watched him as he looked out the window, over the streets the two of them had walked for years, never knowing the other existed until just a few weeks ago. She shuddered, the thought a terrifying one to her. How had a handful of brief encounters with this man break her so? She was so careful not to get attached, not to allow herself the privilege of anything but a bit of meaningless fun?

She could never admit it herself, but she was broken - as broken as one human could be, it seemed. Love was too foreign a concept for her to even entertain it as a possibility, even in an innocent, budding stage of being. Love wasn’t something that existed for people like her - at least that’s what she’d convinced herself after leaving Simon and the smuggling ring. All it could ever be was a tool to use, to hurt someone with, a point of leverage. It was a weakness that had nearly cost her her life once, and it was one she vowed never to entertain again. There was too much risk, too much pain involved.

But what the man across the room described to her, what he said to her... it was a path she could not go down, no matter how much some long-dead part of her wished she could. She was not Charlie from the Isles anymore; her departure from Rogus had shown her that much, that entertaining even a frivolous pseudo-connection was too dangerous. Seeing where this road went, as much as he tried to convince her otherwise, wasn’t the right decision, not now, not ever. She could not deny there was an attraction, and a certifiably strong one at that. But just because she could not deny it, didn’t mean she wouldn’t. Tiz was too sweet, too naive to what he was really wishing on himself.

Tiz was drawing near again; she supposed her reprieve was over, even if her recovery was not. Charlotte found herself backing herself into the door, not to maintain the gap, but rather to hold her up, provide her support as she felt more exposed than she ever had, even when the Bishop’s men had said her name, her real name. Her eyes looked to his chest, unable to look him in the eyes as he said how he wanted to know her. The somber expression she wore nearly formed into a fully-fledged frown; Charlotte knew there was only one way to respond to him. Some considered it bad luck to lie to a Sacaen, but the blonde could do nothing but to ensure his safety in all this.

Raising her eyes to meet his as he’d requested, Charlotte hesitated only a moment before responding. “I haven’t lied, Tiz,” she breathed, her arms still squarely folded against her chest. While her voice still wavered, she did not sound like she doubted her own words. She paused a moment, trying to determine whether or not she wanted to give him a hint of the truth before denying whatever this was; it was likely the only way to try and scare him off the way she needed to.

“How could knowing that I’ve stolen, cheated, lied, and manipulated men and women across Elibe not hurt you? How could knowing that a month and a half ago, I almost couldn’t physically walk myself back into Laus after I tried to double-cross my employer, possibly not hurt you in any way?” Charlotte sighed, realizing she’d likely given him too much, but she didn’t care. He needed to understand why he had to let these feelings fade - just as she needed to.

“Every day I live and breathe, Tiz, is one that could easily kill me. I’ve made enough enemies that even I’m surprised sometimes that my head isn’t on a post somewhere.” A gruesome thought, Charlotte knew, but it was true. “You’re telling me you still feel… however it is you feel despite that?”

Charlotte uncrossed her arms just for a moment, moving hair from her face in an attempt to wipe another tear that was forming in her eye, before crossing them tightly again. “This isn’t a life I intend to stop living - hell, I don’t think I could even if I wanted. So no, I can’t feel the same way. I don’t.”

Pausing for a moment, her words feeling hollow and defensive, Charlotte looked away, but quickly looked back to the messy-haired Sacaen. “You’re a good person, Tiz. I’m just not. And I’m sorry.” The feeling in her chest surged again, as if pleading her to retract her words, but she did not heed the self-doubt. She would not hurt this man any more than she had to, so if that meant breaking his heart now as opposed to later, Charlotte would do what needed to be done.

[Tiz]

"So that's it, huh?" Tiz looked at her, smiling sympathetically, as if to mend her wounds with but a look. He sighed heavily, walking over to the table. He didn't look at her at first, but he pulled out the chair closest to her, all the way out, and then pulled out the chair next to it, sitting himself down. He rested an arm on the table, looked right into Myscha's eyes, but didn't directly tell her to sit... The offer was plain enough. And if she wanted to, she would sit. That was the way of things.

After taking a deep breath, Tiz rapped his fingers across the table, looking between his hand and Myscha as he listened to the woman speak. She was hurt. She was broken. She had done so much... She had been through so much, it seemed, that she was living with a hole in her heart, focused entirely on all the wrong things. So that was it... She didn't feel the same way. She had looked him in the eyes and she had said it. He didn't sense the wavering in her voice as before; it seemed like she really had meant it. Tiz looked down, deciding to fix his gaze on his hand instead of on the woman he felt himself falling for with each passing moment, tense and fleeting though they seemed. Was he losing her? That didn't make sense, Tiz thought. He hadn't ever had her.

As Myscha spoke, Tiz nodded solemnly in reply, neglecting to look at her or give her a direct answer for the long moments they spent. "You know," he began, a completely fake but authentic-sounding lightheartedness in his voice. The swordsman looked out the window and ran a hand through his hair. "I guess I was wrong. It's silly of me to think I can do something and then suddenly, everything is fixed. Hah," he looked back down at the table. "Maybe that's why Dak didn't work out, either. But you know, Myscha..." he glanced up at her to meet her eyes, but only for a fiery second.

"The electricity that I feel around you isn't due to what you say you are, or due to what I think you are. It's due to the way you are. It's that simple." His voice was plain, flat, but kind and understanding. "The heart doesn't operate on what we expect to feel, like many believe," he went on, looking back out the window, his green eyes fixed on the moon. "What makes the heart so fascinating is that it is able to discern the reality of things, even when our minds deceive us, lead us astray, make us think that someone is inherently good or bad. The heart reaches out and feels the very core of a being... My heart is able to reach out and feel the fibers of your soul, and that's what makes this so electric." He explained in such a way as though he were giving a lesson; this was something he had believed firmly for all his life.

"That's where the head versus heart conflict is born. It's not a legend. It's how the heart works." He gently smiled at Myscha, looking back at the table. Internally, he had accepted that she might leave. He might never see her again. She was telling him, after all, that she didn't feel the same.

"So how could I be hurt by the way our hearts are connected? By the way mine reaches out for yours? That isn't how it works." The man sighed again, quietly and to himself, before folding his arms and finally deciding to fix his piercing, determined gaze right on Myscha.

"You're not a good person? Who determines that? You?" His question was direct and forceful, but not angry or distasteful. He laughed softly, still looking at her. "I'm not sure that's how it works. Even if it did work that way, you don't know what determines good and bad, moral upstanding and unholiness. Everything is relative," he continued, his smile growing.

"You're a human being, with a heart that breathes as much as your lungs do. You express, and you fight, and-- and you win, and you lose, and you... You just fight, Myscha, that's life. That's our struggle. That's the human way. And we can do our best to hope for we see the good in everything, but... It doesn't always work out that way. But that's the joy of being around people, you get it? You can either lie in your dark pit alone, or you can hold the hand of someone else who also lies in his dark pit alone, and then... then suddenly, when you see the light in their eyes, it's not so dark down there anymore."