Highly likely parts of this will change:
Nathaniel followed Rosemary down the hall. She made it to the bathroom, but it looked to him each step she took was less steady than the one before. From the doorway he watched her check herself in the mirror. She frowned at the blood trickling down from her forehead. Then she caught sight of his reflection and threw an exasperated look his way.
"Go away."
"No."
She sighed, but didn't press the issue. She needed to focus her attention on the injury. The nearest hand towel was soon scarlet red. "Damn," she whispered to herself as she discovered the wound extended beyond her forehead to her cheekbone.
Nathaniel narrowed his eyes at her. Why was she being so stubborn? Why wouldn't she confide in them? She had to know they couldn't trust her if she didn't trust them. And any bit of information she might be withholding from them could be exactly what they needed to know. Then again, perhaps she didn't trust them because they didn't trust her. Or perhaps she wasn't free to share the things they wanted her to share.
That's it, he realized as everything clicked into place.
Like a spirit, she has a (ban). Maybe even more than one. Her powers look like ours, but they really aren't! They are only based on our way of life. They deal directly with essence and spirits. Of course she being secretive, she has to be beholden to some type of restrictions. No one wants to share their limitations and weaknesses. Nor go against their (bans).He stepped into the bathroom and took her by the shoulders. She was having problems merely keeping blood out of her left eye, much less stop the bleeding altogether. Expecting she wouldn't respond to a gentle suggestion, he used normal strength to direct her to sit on the toilet. Then he took the towel from her hand and rinsed it out under the faucet. The expression on her face as he turned her head to the side indicated she was not happy. But she didn't say a word, so he started to tend to the injury. Every time he dabbed at the wound she flinched. Once he had determined it was mostly just a lot of bleeding and not very deep, he activated his gift of healing to close the wound. It would still hurt, and leave a scar for a while, but she wouldn't need stitches nor pass out from the blood loss.
"I understand," he said as he used the towel one last time to clean the remaining blood off her face.
"You understand nothing," she replied wearily.
"You're human, but you're more. Not like you were. There are a few trustworthy people who claim you are wolf-blooded, but you don't smell of it. Which means something changed to take that away from you. Your gifts fundamentally don't operate like ours, it's like magic to you. Yet you're afraid of..." he paused a moment to find the right words and judge her reaction thus far. "Of the repercussions of what you do, that is, of how you use your powers. Makes me wonder what the potential limits to your gifts are, because anyone who has real power should be smart enough to be afraid of it."
Rosemary's eyes rolled up to look at him with surprise, and a touch of dread. She shook her head oh so slightly at him. "You learn too quickly," she whispered.
"All-"
"No," she cut him off, standing up and pushing him away. "Stop it."
Nathaniel let her push by him. "Don't worry so much," he said to her departing back. "That's what we're here to do."
She stopped at the door, lingering for only a moment to drop her head. "Thank you," she said quickly, and then left.
Labels: Story, The Lost Song
