05-26-2014, 12:35 PM
Tehya tried not to dwell on his admission of a god-born son. Death went hand in hand with such abilities, and she thought that Connor was probably right about him being better off passed from this world. Still, the conflict roiled deep inside, blanked from her expression. With a father like Connor, would the son really have grown into the sort of monster the Atharim had right to fear? Not a question she had any answers to, of course. The reminder of her own hypocrisies wearied her. What did Aria tell you? Not, apparently, that under the Regus's directives, for having spawned such a monstrosity in the first place his life might be held forfeit. He should keep his son's secret even in death, but she had warned him all she was able.
Connor had glanced beyond the veil, and she hoped he could go back to ordinary life quickly and peacefully. He paused before disembarking, as though hoping for her to thaw, but she had nothing to offer his earnestness. Her dark gaze followed him as he stepped off the train, then returned to the sniping youth opposite. I don't know, Elias. Let me check my book of bullshit. The retort skittered across the surface of her mind, but in the end he was not privy to her bald humour. Disapproval did not colour her gaze; she ignored the comment entirely.
He leaned back in his seat, scrutinising her through kohl-lined eyes. The study was mutual. Tehya had her own suspicions as to why the ijiraq had been caught in Elias's grip, and they did not mark him innocent. She was content to have no proof, and she was not interested in puzzling out the root of his secrets any more than she was keen to divulge her own - but what would have happened if he'd not let go? Gods had controlled ijiraq once. It might be nothing; she had precious little aside from circumstantial guesses, but she was unwilling to cast the benefit of doubt until she had enough information to decide whether what she had witnessed posed a threat.
"Cold,"
she said obliquely, as uninformative in its own way has his own answer had been. Her dark brows rose above sombre eyes. If he wanted honesty then it would be an equal bargain, and Tehya would be as forthcoming as she deemed appropriate given the line her vows stipulated. "It spoke to you, Elias. It vowed to come back."
Up until now she had been armed with purpose, and therein it lie unmasked. The why? was implicit, but unasked; she didn't expect him to have answers for that, nor probably to share whatever reaction the ijiraq's words had inspired, though her sombre and intent expression offered him the opportunity to confide.
"Connor gets to walk away because he can. Because he should. You can't. And I won't."
The promise came in a lazy, predatory way, unlit by zeal but fortified in fact. They could interrogate each other, peck crumbs from the leavings of each others' responses, and walk away unsatisfied. Or they could dispense the guardedness. He had no reason to trust her of course, but she gave him the choice to be candid with her. In the end it did not matter. Whether he worked with her or she worked in shadows, she would unravel this mystery. For now she demanded no more answers, but waited to see what he would offer. If he would offer anything at all.
Connor had glanced beyond the veil, and she hoped he could go back to ordinary life quickly and peacefully. He paused before disembarking, as though hoping for her to thaw, but she had nothing to offer his earnestness. Her dark gaze followed him as he stepped off the train, then returned to the sniping youth opposite. I don't know, Elias. Let me check my book of bullshit. The retort skittered across the surface of her mind, but in the end he was not privy to her bald humour. Disapproval did not colour her gaze; she ignored the comment entirely.
He leaned back in his seat, scrutinising her through kohl-lined eyes. The study was mutual. Tehya had her own suspicions as to why the ijiraq had been caught in Elias's grip, and they did not mark him innocent. She was content to have no proof, and she was not interested in puzzling out the root of his secrets any more than she was keen to divulge her own - but what would have happened if he'd not let go? Gods had controlled ijiraq once. It might be nothing; she had precious little aside from circumstantial guesses, but she was unwilling to cast the benefit of doubt until she had enough information to decide whether what she had witnessed posed a threat.
"Cold,"
she said obliquely, as uninformative in its own way has his own answer had been. Her dark brows rose above sombre eyes. If he wanted honesty then it would be an equal bargain, and Tehya would be as forthcoming as she deemed appropriate given the line her vows stipulated. "It spoke to you, Elias. It vowed to come back."
Up until now she had been armed with purpose, and therein it lie unmasked. The why? was implicit, but unasked; she didn't expect him to have answers for that, nor probably to share whatever reaction the ijiraq's words had inspired, though her sombre and intent expression offered him the opportunity to confide.
"Connor gets to walk away because he can. Because he should. You can't. And I won't."
The promise came in a lazy, predatory way, unlit by zeal but fortified in fact. They could interrogate each other, peck crumbs from the leavings of each others' responses, and walk away unsatisfied. Or they could dispense the guardedness. He had no reason to trust her of course, but she gave him the choice to be candid with her. In the end it did not matter. Whether he worked with her or she worked in shadows, she would unravel this mystery. For now she demanded no more answers, but waited to see what he would offer. If he would offer anything at all.