>>6258243

“And yet,” Soralisa replies putting it into your hand, “if it has come to you, it must be for a reason. It will help you. During your Trial. I am sure.”
Even just breaking news of the Trial ahead was hard on Soralisa. You accepted the idea with a strange detachment. Like it was something involved Master more than you.
Soralisa seems to disagree…
“How do you know—”
“I don’t.” She bites her lower lip, embarrassed. “I just believe. My books are full of the great deeds of the Saints. I have learned so much about Kishirra, but can’t compare to seeing the Will of Ansàrra with my own eyes… even when it burned me.”
“I still don’t know why. This is heretical. Why keep it? Why keep on to it for—”
“If you had Willow’s keepsake, even the tiniest thing,” Soralisa says, turning her face away and fidgeting weakly with her damaged fingers, “would you hold onto it?”
“I— of course.”
“You would,” she whispers, her voice growing ghostly, her smile wavering like the ocean that surrounds you. “Well, then. You see. It does make sense. It was, ah,” she winces, gulping and clearing her throat. “You would. So, it makes sense. A great deal of sense. I… at, least I did show you my notes, I—”
Something takes a hold of you. You wouldn’t be able to name it. You pull Soralisa in a hug from behind, holding her trembling form against you, the cameo still in your hand, even as her sharp breaths turn into sobs, her hands close upon yours, the weakest of talons.
You are not exactly sure why she is sobbing.
But you have now a reason to be all the stronger for it.
You hold her for each of he gulps, and you don’t react even when she calls your name.
You let the wind play with your hair, intermingle them with her brown ones. Silver and brown.
Like Willow’s eyes.

[cont.]