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Therion felt his fingernails digging into his palms, but he couldn’t make himself relax his fists. He couldn’t believe it—Darius was alive, here! And to make matters worse, he had the two remaining Dragonstones Therion needed in order to complete his contract and remove his confounded bangle.
When it rains, it pours.
His mind, despite himself, kept flashing to that cliffside years ago as Darius taunted him about trust. He saw his former friend’s face twist in sadistic delight as it moved farther upwards and way from him. As he fell down, down….
“Therion?”
The thief flinched slightly as he was jolted out of his reverie by a familiar voice. He looked over and saw Ophilia standing feet away. He could see her brown eyes were filled with worry. He frowned deeper as he looked away–-she shouldn't worry about him. He didn't deserve it.
He heard her take a few tentative steps closer to him, as if she was afraid he was going to bolt. She needn’t worry, as he felt like his feet were as heavy as boulders. He wasn’t running anywhere. “Erm…Therion?” she asked, her bell-like tone small.
“That’s my name,” he answered, keeping his voice neutral.
“Is something the matter?” she asked, and she sounded so sincere that Therion once again felt his chest constrict and his face felt hot. He instinctively hid his face in his scarf, hoping she wouldn’t notice.
“No. Nothing that concerns you, at least.”
Ophilia’s face fell, and he felt a bit guilty at his tone.
“I-it’s just that…” she raised her eyes once more to study him, and Therion forced himself to stare straight ahead. “...your expression is so uncharacteristically grim.”
At this, Therion finally let himself look at her fully, and crossed his arms. “You seem awfully interested in the state of my face. Is it that fascinating?” his lips quirked in a sarcastic smile, though his tone had a teasing lilt to it. He was hoping that by teasing her like this, she would sputter and turn that shade of red he liked and would forget all about why he was more moody than usual.
Never mind that seeing her all flustered made his own heart flutter like leaves in the wind.
A pout graced her lips and her cheeks flushed pink, “It’s not about your face, nor my interest in it,” she blushed a darker red now, and Therion felt the air leave his lungs for a moment. “You’re in a mood, and I simply want to know why!”
Silence fell between them as they both realized she had taken a step closer to him. He uncrossed his arms and let them fall to his side, and Ophilia’s eyes shone with genuine worry. Still, no word was said as they both let out the breath they were holding.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,” the cleric’s gaze fell to her feet, her tone contrite. Therion wondered about how tiny she looked just then, drawn in on herself. His chest squeezed painfully.
Before he realized what he was doing, he lifted his arm and rest his hand on top of her head in a gentle pat. “It’s all right,” he said gently, his hand remaining in place as she looked up at him. “But like I said, don’t worry about it. After all,” he lowered his voice to a murmur, and his hand ran down the side of her head as he gently held a lock of her blonde hair, “a frown suits you even less than it suits me.”
The air around them froze once again, and Therion felt his heart thunder in his chest. Still he didn’t move, her hair soft as silk in his hand. She looked at him, her lips parted and her gaze as soft as he’d ever seen it. He was mesmerized, and before he could lean in closer–-
-–a door to the inn they were standing against slammed, and they both jumped apart as the spell was broken.
“W-well,” Ophilia cleared her throat, not meeting his eyes, “in that case, I shall say no more.” She nodded at him, “Goodnight, Therion!” She turned on her heel and walked away, though he noticed her glance back at him as she rounded the corner of the building before disappearing out of sight.
Therion sighed loudly as he leaned against the building. Good , he thought. Because it really isn’t important…and it’s my problem alone .
What was happening to him?