A cease fire...or is it? [Alaren] [Finished]

“Feeling better? Or at least, marginally sated?”

“You say that like I’m some kind of demon that feeds off of misery or something like that,”

“Well, are you? Feeling better, I mean. We both know you are a demon,”

And here we see a rare Humourous Fenlielius in its natural habitat. Stow away your cameras folks, he doesn’t like the flash.

Truth be told, Alaren did feel sort of calmer, but last night his sleep was rather disturbed. Think it’s the guilt? Wrong. The day that the half-elf fidgets in his bed out of guilt will be the day heaven lights up in flames. No, his wyrm was insisting that he sleep with the half-elf (saying something about a peaceful influence), and so said half-elf had spent the night with a snake. The wings did not help either.

Fenliel did eventually curl up and honestly Alan quite enjoyed having a presence next to him, peaceful or not.

So yes, today was a better day, and he said it out loud, eliciting a relieved sigh from the wyrm on top of his head. Give the guy a few more days and he’ll have forgotten the incident already. Hell, Alaren couldn’t hold half of the malice he had had yesterday today.

There was a sound from behind them, and when Fenliel looked back and saw that pesky fire sprite again, he mumbled, “Stay happy, Elandili. Keep your heart under control,”, and left it at that. Bad things had happened when the wyrm had interfered in what he now knew was simply a juvenile rivalry. Better to let things play out on their own.

Alaren glanced back quizzically, and then made a face. Shoving his hands in his pockets and adopting a nonchalantly cool (as in cold) air, he faced the girl and said, “Hey. How was your night? I think mine was just a bit chilly. I swear, something was in my comforter,”

Which was an entirely innocent statement. Fenliel had been in his bed, but it was to remind the little lady what had occurred last night, and that his mood was still not quite settled yet. Although today, the half-elf was feeling much more gracious.

The note was cute, and the girl seemed innocent enough, but still, Alaren wouldn’t have survived partial living on the streets had he not cultivated a strong sense of suspicion. True, the half-elf was reckless in fighting, all fun and games, really, but when it came to people, well now, that was one thing that you had to keep your ears pricked about. People were volatile, people were fickle. They are the most dangerous game.

So he called out to the retreating figure, ‘Hey, uh,’ he glanced at the messily written scrap of paper in his hand. ‘Koine! Wait up,’

‘What are you up to, Elandili?' Fenliel’s mental voice resonated with concern and worry. Alaren sent a brief signal that was akin to ‘never you mind’ and strode forward to the fire spirit, to Koine (which was a singularly odd name, to be honest, but then the half-elf’s view on acceptable naming was biased, having half grown up with the flowery tones of elvish).

‘Look, I know that I may look like I’ve been through some rough stuff, like, I dunno, emotionally, but seriously, I’m asking you,’ Alaren paused, taking this moment to let his eyes do the talking. He actually did feel that he’d been a jerk, but technically (he would vouch for this himself), it hadn’t been his fault. Nothing that caused him pain would ever be his fault in his perspective. ‘Is this some kind of revenge, some kind of get-back?’

Here he was, pleading for her to be honest (even though in normal circumstances he himself wouldn’t be) because if she wasn’t…well. It wouldn’t be as bad as yesterday, but by the stars will this relationship get off to a bad start.

‘However…you have gleaned enjoyment from this whole fiasco, no? Pure enjoyment that is absolutely unrelated to any bitter feelings?’ There was a tentative murmur in his head, and Alaren pursed his lips, conceding that he had indeed gotten some fun out of this. Emboldened by this, the wyrm continued, ‘And yes, I do know who you are reminded of. You recall that older boy from the town? The one who pretended to be your friend for many a pleasant day, only to turn on you when he was assimilated into another clique? I remember, and so do you. Do not let the past bleed into the present, Elandili, lest you want to stir up old troubles,’

Of course. Trust Fen to keep on lecturing once he got the get-go. Either way, Alaren was reminded of that guy, James. James Crowfield, his name was. The best of friends, and a right up bastard.

Yeah. He’ll give this bird a chance, and this was it. Fenliel sighed, relieved, to himself. For once the boy had heeded his words of wisdom (he conveniently forgot about the most recent time that Alaren had followed his ‘words of wisdom’, and how that turned out).