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"Harsh Words of Kindness" (Rockaxe, Silver Aspen Tavern) "Dammit, I didn't think he struck THAT hard..." Alexandra winced as she inspected her left hand, a thin trickle of blood running down through her slim fingers each time she exerted even the mildest degree of pressure upon them. She shifted uncomfortably within her cushion-less oaken chair as she propped her elbows flatly upon the table she had seated herself at, producing a dull thunking sound that echoed invariably throughout the empty tavern. "I really went in over my head this time," she mumbled sourly, her face revealing a barely-hidden mixture of disappointment and regret. "And to make things worse, I got you involved, Miklotov. I really didn't have the right..." Miklotov produced a penitent expression as he slumped into the chair opposite of Alex, his glove-less hands wrapped taunt around a dampened rag that he had excavated from behind the solemn bar counter. "Don't fret yourself over it," he murmured, gingerly taking hold of Alex's blood-stained hand and gently dabbing the wound clean with the towel. "If anyone was out of line, it was Lord Gordo. ...That man...I swear there's hardly a compassionate bone in his entire body... I can't believe he actually struck you like this!" "Well," Alex voiced, her tone suddenly picking up a slight hint of anxiety, "that may be so, but I'm worried more about what he might be thinking now." Her voice suddenly dropped to an almost inaudible volume. "Besides...something in his eyes this time has me worried. Those clockworks up there--" She paused to tap the side of her red-peppered head with a finger from her good hand. "--are grinding loudly, if you catch my meaning..." And that's what worries me most. Lord Gordo may have kept Matilda's people free from harm, he may have kept our knights strong... But those methods he uses...they're not the methods of a man who doesn't care who's in the way of his goals... He's a man who's more interested in Matilda's gain than in Jowston's. And you should know that better than anyone, Miklotov... "Uh, Mik...? You're squeezing my hand a little hard..." Miklotov blinked, his expression dumbfounded as he jerked back slightly, the sudden forceful grip on Alex's injured hand abruptly loosening as his thoughts came careening back to the present. "S-Sorry," he mumbled apologetically, quickly dabbing away the new traces of blood that had been summoned by his less-than-gentle hold. Dammit, he cursed himself, his own face betraying the uncertainty that had taken hold of his troubled thinking. Why does the mere THOUGHT of Lord Gordo cause you to tense up? You swore your loyalty to him when you were twenty-one, during your vigil and dubbing... Maybe he's got an overall plan. There HAS to be a logical reason to WHY he's like this...but...what he did to Alexandra, what he had said...can you TRULY forgive that...? But it wasn't just that. Miklotov knew what was bothering him was Alexandra's recklessness when it came to DEALING with a man like Gordo. Alex was defying tradition, daring to walk across the path that only the men of Matilda were allowed to tread upon...and such actions, for a woman who was not only a citizen of Rockaxe but of partial Highland birth, were not only unheard of--a sort of centuries-old taboo--but were the kinds of thoughts and movements that could get her killed. ...But how could he convince her to stop, to back away for the sake of her health? How could he tell her to just let go of everything she had been aiming for? He didn't want to see her hurt, but...he didn't want to hurt her HIMSELF, either... What could he TRULY say? The woman tolerated his honesty...but how far could such a trait be pushed...? Alex glanced up into Miklotov's eyes, alarmed at the angered gleam that suddenly overtook their formerly resolute hue. "Is something wrong...?" she dared to ask. "...I'm just upset," came Miklotov's rather blunt answer. He removed the bloodstained rag from Alex's hand, delicately inspecting the wound to make sure it had closed before he began to dress it with a strip of clean cloth. Alex was still giving him a concerned look, a glance that he was familiar with for as long as he had known her; his own perturbed features finally buckled under as he hefted a sigh and sunk further into his chair, his blue and black coat ruffling audibly in tune with his slow movements. "Alexandra...what I mean to tell you is...I..." Spit it out, just spit it out! Tell her now before you regret it! "...Alex, you should stop all this, stop bringing your issues to Lord Gordo." A sudden, stunned silence enveloped the pair as Alex's jaw hung loosely, her eyes widening in disbelief. Wordlessly, her hand reflexively drew back as she tried to fully grasp Miklotov's words...or more likely, the reality of what he had said, that the statement WASN'T a figment of her imagination. "Y-you...don't mean that, do you...?" she managed to stammer, her voice choked. Miklotov found himself unable to fight off the wave of guilt that permeated every corner of his once-smooth face. His words had set off the initial reaction from Alex, so now there was no use in not getting his point across...if not harshly, as he unconsciously had made it. "Gordo won't listen to you, Alex...he's the kind of man who'd rather die than change his beliefs. Don't try to get involved in a battle you can't win...you should just pull back, pull back before you get hurt. I can't always protect you like I did this morning..." "... ...I...I don't believe this...!" Miklotov's glove-less fists clenched reflexively at the tone of Alexandra's failing voice, at the mixture of incredulity and startled distress that sent lines across her taunt face. His words had apparently slammed into her with the force of a battering ram; within seconds, Alex pulled herself out of her chair and her arms tightened with sudden anger. "...Of all the people I know," she murmured, her boots shuffling against the wooden floor as she staggered back slightly, "...I never thought I'd hear YOU say that. ...You should know I can't give this fight up..." Miklotov quickly forced himself out of his chair, grabbing hold of the table to support himself when his legs became submerged in abrupt waves of unexplainable weakness, threatening to bring him down to his knees. "But I can't always be there for you, like I was today!" he pleaded indignantly, trying to get his point across honestly, but with as little damage as possible. "What would've happened if I WASN'T there to stop Lord Gordo? Camus and I can't always be there for you, as much as we want to be! We can't always help you because of the fact we're tied down by our Knight's Code! By the GODS, Alex...if you keep this up, Gordo may very well kill you for incitement of treason!" "Then that's a risk that I'll just have to take!" Miklotov flinched, his whole demeanor seemingly shattered by the sudden tone of fierceness that enveloped Alexandra's angered voice. Opposite of him, expression smoldering and copper-toned eyes flaring an almost inhuman red, Alex backtracked towards the tavern door, seemingly uncaring that blood was beginning to seep through the poultice wrapped upon her left hand. The blue-clad knight suddenly found that his voice failed him as his own face fell into a mask of complete powerlessness. "I have things I want to protect," Alex continued, her voice suddenly caustic to the point that she actually caused Miklotov to blanch at the harshness. Her good hand took hold of the brass door handle of the tavern as she spoke. "I know you can't always help, but this is my battle! Nothing will be gained or lost unless I fight, so there's no use in stopping me!" "Alex, wait! I didn't mean it like that--" Miklotov's words fell upon deaf ears. With that, the tavern door swung open...and then shut just as quickly as it crashed brutally, pitting Miklotov within the emptiness of the uninhabited pub. All he could do, as he let his head slump into his awaiting arms upon the tabletop, was to curse himself for his thoughtless use of words.
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