memories of all that's left behind

[priorcommitment]

When Zerachiel didn't show up at Ishiah's tent in the afternoon for his normal bout of training, the blonde had suspected that something had gone awry. At the same time, it was difficult to know for certain; one thing that Ishiah had observed about Zeke long ago was that he was more the type of person who would be swept away by distractions, often coming back without any way of recognizing that he was in the wrong at all for missing a lesson. Upon receiving a note from Trixa in the mail, however, he felt that his suspicions were confirmed. Someone who had been with Zeke for years, who cared for him only in the way that family could and spared no time or detail when it came to watching over the boy, would know if he had left.

It was really too bad.

Ishiah walked on over to the pair's hut, just across from his own in Bohemia, as soon as he'd returned from a shift at work. Quietly, he knocked on the front door, knowing Trixa would hear. Suspecting that she would need to talk about it, or at least to commiserate about it, as much as he needed that.

He still wasn't accustomed to losing family. And this time, without any guarantee that he would find Zeke again later on in life.

Comments

[tricksthetreat.livejournal.com]

"Your choice."

She stayed at the door, looking out, trying to get the mess of her thoughts in order. It was a losing battle. She couldn't pull herself out, every thought she had wound back to what she'd lost, how much it hurt, and how little she could so about it.

Leo could pull her out, but Leo wasn't here. No one was here. No one but a stuck-up peri, and over-sexed puck (who was inconveniently off the market, not that she was one to drown her sorrows in lust), and a few humans from her world she didn't even know. Yeah, life here sucked at the moment.

If the peri wanted to watch he could.

[priorcommitment]

He could recognize pain. On an objective level, Ishiah also knew that it would have been better to try and alleviate it in some way. What didn't come naturally to him, however, was any notion of how to apply a salve to her emotional wounds— every idea that he came up with was rejected, as clueless as Ishiah was about what Trixa would have taken positively, or what she would balk against. Hadn't she already thrown a knife in the general direction of his head, after all?

If she refused to help herself, or to allow others to help her, then Ishiah saw no point in simply presiding over her grief.

"I'll see myself out," he concluded in a quiet tone. "But if you can think of any feasible means for me to help, let me know."

I'm not going anywhere, he almost added, before realizing that it simply wasn't a promise he could make.