Reminiscing

Sylvangloam was a beautiful place. The shop that he walked by was new to him, or at least, the last times he had visited, he hadn't noticed that there were vendors after this particular bend in the road. There was nobody before or after her, and she'd made clear use of this perfect space to tuck herself into the town without interrupting the flow of traffic.

When he'd talked with her, intent on having a light-hearted conversation, and maybe purchasing some of the various baked goods she seemed to have, she'd shaken her head. "No-- the cookies, they're not for you," she'd said, or something along those lines-- the words had mattered less to him in the moment than the intent, particularly because of what had followed. "If you'll do me a favour, I'll give you something special-- something free of charge."

He could have turned her down. He could have simply walked away. But instead, he'd asked her what she was asking for, and it seemed a simple enough request: find a quiet place in the forest to relax, and take the time to be present with himself. She'd said something about taking the time to sort himself out-- something about forgiveness, which, quite frankly, had left him speechless and more than a little insulted. He had swept around, striding away with a flip of his hair-- the nerve of this stranger-- but as he continued back through the winding path, he paused, and looked back towards the glow of her booth, obscured by the trees.

It would be several hours until he could check into his accommodations, and he'd already eaten well and done his voice and physical exercises. He had time to kill, and, while he still firmly felt that it was none of that woman's business to poke and try to intimate that he had some sort of hidden traumas, that she had probably been coming from a place of kindness to suggest this in the first place.

Plus, she'd given him directions. The least he could do was check it out.

-~-

Silence. When surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the world, its absence, at first, heralded an emptiness -- a void that left a sense of wanting, regret, or relief -- but that emptiness was deceptive. Even the quietest of weather, with a floating mist and not even the tiniest of breezes, left room for one to hear movements-- the grass rustling around his legs as he settled into yet another position, the sound of his fingers stroking the skin near an ear as he tucked his hair back-- the high, almost ringing pitch of a swallow, or the soft, thrumming baseline of his heartbeat.

It had been quite some time since he'd meditated, but he knew that letting himself focus on the sensations... while not fixating on anything too much, was a fine enough technique for a layperson to manage. But still, he couldn't help himself from fidgeting. He rolled his shoulders and sighed, hyper-aware of the gusty sound, with just the tiniest murmur of his voice overtop of the sound.

This... wasn't going to be easy. Even with the phone alarm set, so he couldn't possibly miss the window to check in before getting supper with a friend, the thought of letting himself be so rawly open was alien to him. Kavi had long-since committed to living live filling those little silences with meaning and action, because when he was left too long on his own, his thoughts would start to take over, and he'd be stuck running over past scenarios, and past doubts, until he couldn't stand to be stuck in the company of his own mind. It was, quite simply, so much easier to live in the moment-- to sing, to dance, to network, to enjoy a good meal, or a new game, or the feeling of someone's breath mingling hot and shallow with his own.

Alone, like this, the chorus of quiet noises coming from himself and the environment around him wasn't enough to quash the thoughts. Had his prying been what led 'Cho to leave, those years back? It had certainly made things awkward between him and their parents, which left him essentially feeling worse than alone when he spent time back home with them in Groveheart. Even alone, the walls felt like they had judged him, and he felt ill-at-ease.

He'd tried, so many times, to make sense of it. Had his actions been justified? He'd tried to convince himself of that. Had he fucked up in some way that was so unforgivable that he'd ruined everything? He couldn't wrap his head around things. He needed to know why his family had broken up. It had happened so soon after the outbreaks... but perhaps it had been the outbreak precipitating something that had been ready to break already. No amount of agonizing-- in bed at night, in restless dreams, or sitting with a damp dress in a dark thicket in the Gloam agonizing over an old woman's words-- would lead him to an answer, not unless he spontaneously developed very specific powers overnight.

He'd have to try to talk to them, if he was ever going to resolve things. And to talk to his sister, he'd first have to find her.