shelley_winters | (no subject)

(no subject)

Shelley had been tired when they got back, so tired she had gone to bed immediately rather than reading as she normally did.

But sleep, when it came, was disturbed and confusing. It is warm in her room, but she shivers in her sleep, dancing alone in a room that is empty but she's being watched...

The girl sits up slowly, rubbing her eyes. The tension isn't going away even in the peace of the night, that prickling of undefinable vulnerable terror that the dreams she has been having leave her with.

After splashing her face with water, she quietly steps out of her room to wander down the corridor outside. It's dark and silent, which is oddly comforting as she walks up and down through the silent house, avoiding the area where Elan's study is. He sleeps little, and is often awake working at this time of night.

Her bare feet make no sound on the smooth floor, only the faint brush of her nightdress as she walks telling of her presence. She stops only to look out of the window for a time, trying to calm herself to sleep again. A soft mist has replaced the former clear sky, and she can only just make out the garden past it.

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"Of course you are," she says guardedly.

She has her arms folded rather defensively over her stomach, but Shelley glances up again, as calm as she can seem.

Delicate fingers brush her cheek and fondle a few strands of red hair. Wintergreen as crisp as the evening air.

"Lady Shelley, did you enjoy the evening out?"

A pause, and a touch of concern in his voice as he pointed to the dark outside the window.

"No need for fear. Our peace still holds. I will not harm you in any way."

Shelley draws back a little in any case, green eyes flicking worriedly to his hand. Never safe around him.

"It... was nice to be out."

Allowing that feels oddly like giving in.

A sad smile as his blue eyes study her. His voice still soft. White robe billowed slightly, shifting on pale skin, as he stood near her. Proximity was powerful.

"No need for you to spend your birthday in the same way as you do every day... No one should have to be so lonely all of the time."

Normally she would at least have glared. Normally she would have said something like and why am I lonely at all? Who took me away from all my friends, Elan?

One night's peace.

Shelley shrugs uncomfortably and looks away again, out of the window into the mist.

The touch of a finger on her hand. A gentle, gentle touch. Blue eyes, and the whisper of wintergreen.

(Pain is not your lot anymore...)

"Are you lonely, Lady Shelley, miserable?"

Yes, and who is to blame for that?

Do you think I believe you care?

Her hand twitches away again.

"I think you already know that."

The girl's voice is quiet, and matter of fact.

Sitting on the cushioned window seat, a blue like the deep ocean, Elan glanced up at her. No command in his voice just an invitation.

"Sit. It will not help you any to be brooding in the halls at night. We might as well keep each other company while we cannot sleep."

Cautiously Shelley does so, sitting a good way from him, and on the edge before she pushes herself back to lean against the wall and lifts her bare feet off the floor to curl her legs under her.

A smile as he drew up his feet as well and turned to face her. His voice pleasant as hs studied her. He drew his white robe around his bare chest slightly from the cool radiated by the window.

"I know you have been practicing Sha'rah some. Are you familiar with the feint sequence 'The Winged Chariot of Time'?"

"A little," she says carefully.

She knows it perfectly, having studied it a few days back.

"It's defensive, to bypass a direct attack, isn't it?"

Elan nods calmly as he moved closer to the center of the seat. With a deep breath, he exhaled onto the window's cold surface. In the thin mist, Elan began to diagram a Sha'rah board.

"It is often used as a measure to purchase time, or to make a sacrifice to obtain something very important."

A few pieces were drawn with a delicate finger. Some arrows followed, as he tilted his head.

"Now, as you can see, it involves making an exchange, but in a careful way."

Shelley nods, eyes intent on the window.

"How safe is it?" she asks after a moment.

Elan raised an index finger, and gave a wry grin. The slight squeak of his finger on the window pane.

"The beauty of the maneuver is its flexibility. The more equally balanced the sides are, then it is obviously safer, but..."

Some pieces are moved, and some arrows drawn.

"If arranged delicately, the move will perform perfectly even if the opponent has an almost crushing advantage."

A small smile to himself as he drew some pieces.

"Of course, it can always be offensive. Take this result, and change these two pieces, and what you have is a perfect set up for a Casorati offensive. Do you see that?"

Shelley watches and listens. Quietly and absorbed.

She nods to the question, though her head tilts a little beforehand.

"...Yes. I see."

A small smile from Elan as he returned to a more comfortable sitting position and glanced away from her. His voice softer.

"My apologies for rambling, Lady Shelley."

"I don't mind."

She never had, not even when he was still under his stuffy professor guise, Rhalen Lyngar. The girl looks away from the fading patterns on the window, back to the floor.

A gentle touch on her face as he leans forward slightly. A brief touch, lightly with warm fingertips in the cool night air. A touch of concern as light and gentle as the touch of his hand in his voice.

"Is something the matter, Lady Shelley?"

Shelley frowns a little, not looking up.

"You've asked me that before, Elan."

Warm fingertips linger slightly. A touch more concern as he tilted his head.

"You are not all right, are you?"

Shelley turns her face away stubbornly.

(Your fault, that's your doing, can't take that away, you can't change that)

But she says nothing. This peace, some assurance of safety is worth that.

Pulling his hand back, Elan watches her across from him in the cool night air. The moonlight sifted light and shadow across his beautiful features.

"Are you cold?"

Shelley shrugs at the change in topic, a little confused.

"...I'm all right."

It is a little cool, but with her legs tucked under she she can ignore that.

Curiosity in his voice as he speaks. His dark hair hanging in the cool, night air.

"Does the cold not seep into your bones after a time?"

Shelley looks up at him, expression wary and worried.

"...I'm fine," she repeats defiantly, and perhaps a little dishonestly.