He shook his wrist a little, turning away. "No. It's okay. I used to be the same - or - well, it depends. I've -" he stuttered to a stop, fumbling for words.
She was silent, allowing him the time to put together his sentence properly.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
James hadn't planned on trying to finish his sentence. He'd almost hoped she would interrupt him, and change the subject, or just say anything. But instead, she was waiting.
Uncomfortably, he looked at the ground. "I've taken on many identities. And sometimes, being flightly and quick to fight only draws suspicion. When I... put on a new face, I do more than change my name. It's a very conscious effort to change my mannerisms, and control my reflexes, but I do it," he explained, unable to find a substitute response that was less specific, or less truthful.
"Ah," she nodded in understanding. "I...I've always fought too quickly, is all, and over time, with battle, it just has gotten worse, you know? Nearly killed another kid once, for coming at me from behind. Granted...it was worse then, than most times, but..." she paused. "After so many years it's mostly reflex now. Maybe I should take after you and learn the discipline. Maybe it doesn't even matter now." She shrugs. "In the end it's what keeps me alive. Then again, if I hang with you for much longer, perhaps it won't be."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
"That's-" James let out a dry, uncomfortable laugh. "Gods, okay. Yeah, maybe, but if you want to learn the 'discipline' do it because you want to, not just to deceive people." He paused, breathing out another weak laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. "Like me."
She blinked, then shook her head with a short, rueful laugh. "Funny, that's what he said, too."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
She almost didn't answer him. She certainly didn't want to, and she definitely didn't want to think about it, but a part of her felt bad shutting James out. If she was honest, she'd lived as lonely as she was for long enough.
But her heart was torn: to be truthful, for the first time in a long time, or to disengage like she always did. But where had that gotten her? His words still rang in her mind like it was yesterday. Words she'd ignored for long enough.
"He. Kolvar." She paused and looked away, trying to keep the emotion off her face. "The one who...took me in after...everything."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
He could tell it was something she didn't want to talk about. The avoiding eye contact, the controlled expression, the vague response. Things he did all the time. Things he knew how to read.
Clearly, something happened to Kolvar, or he did something to her that brought up bad memories, and that wasn't considering whatever 'after everything' that happened before Kolvar meant.
He didn't want to push her. But he also didn't want to leave it hanging in the air. He wanted to acknowledge it.
He straightened up a little.
"It sounds like he was very important to you," he said gently. "You don't have to answer, if you don't want to, but... did something happen to him?"
She nodded silently, considering her response as the memories ran through the back of her mind. The blood. The monsters. The wolves.
"Yes," she finally said. "He...I should've been back sooner. I wasn't. The bounty hunter got him first - it was a bounty put out by the local thieves' guild after he wronged their leader. He was the only thing between me and hunting, so I took up this sword and never looked back."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
Tasha shrugged. "It's the way of the woods, so to speak. He knew what he was getting into. So did I."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
She didn't meet his gaze, choosing to gaze at the ground instead in a vain attempt to hide the tear that was running down her face. S***. Here she was, crying, and not only that, but it was in front of James of all people. Gods d*** it.
And yet, she couldn't stop it. Not as she could hear his ragged breath in the back of her mind, the glazed look in her mentor's eyes, the blood on the ground, but, most of all, the hatred. The fear. The consuming fury that wrapped its claws around her heart for the final time and never, ever let go.
"Yeah," she said, so softly her voice was difficult to hear. "That's true enough."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
James slowed, turning back to Tasha with his eyebrows drawing together.
Maybe he shouldn't have asked. She was crying.
Normally, he might've put a hand on her shoulder to comfort, but considering how that went just a few minutes ago, he decided against it. Instead, he just stopped and faced her, looking at towards, but not in a way that would've demanded her to meet his gaze. Not in a way that it was just him staring.
"I'm sorry, Tasha," he said softly, putting as much kindness into his words as he could. "That you lost him, and that he's gone. That's not a pain that... that's good to feel alone."
Hesitantly, and albeit a bit awkwardly, he held out a hand, offering her to take it if she wanted.
He wanted to apologize for asking. For bringing it up, and causing her, if inadvertently, to cry. But he also didn't want to, because he didn't want to make her shut down, and feel like she had to stuff it all inside. She probably already got enough of that from herself.
