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I'll be posting my story here as well!  If you're interested in it, please feel free to follow my other account: ManuWrites
Thank you if you take the time to read it!

Previous Chapter:
Next Chapter:

All Chapters HERE.

CHAPTER 40: PRETENSE

                The bewildered looks on the faces of her friends proved that Aldous had said what Malia had heard. The pause after the redhead’s exit could only mean that they, too, doubted their senses. Bayard made up his mind first, rushing after Aldous with steadfast strides.
                “Gorken!” Malia stretched her arms upwards, “Please give me a hand! We need to go after him!”
                He obliged instantly, leaving the room with Malia on his back. Lyra fretted near the door, feeling she would only be a burden if she intervened in a conflict she didn’t understand. Kadem remained on her chair; her ability to read people’s emotions made her an undesirable presence in any intimate exchange. More often than not her penetrating knowledge broadened the distance between herself and others, instead of bridging it. The last thing Aldous required was a silver child encroaching on his mind.
                The twins were outwardly silent, their private debate a secret from everyone else.
                Outside, Bayard was the first to catch up to Aldous. He held his partner’s arm.
                “Let go.” Aldous turned to glance at him, “I’m not running away or anything. I’ll listen to what you have to say, and then I’ll leave.”
                “You are running away.” Bayard loosened his grip.
                “Aldous,” Gorken arrived with Malia, “if you have a proper reason for leaving I won’t stop you. But I must hear it and determine whether it is proper.”
                “Screw that!” Malia climbed off Gorken’s back, “I don’t care if you have a proper reason. I can’t let you leave with that miserable look on your face! Not after you taught me we were a team. Talk to us. Trust us.”
                Aldous loved them: Bayard’s gentle touch and his few precise words that never missed; Gorken’s fatherly tolerance and his willingness to accept it all without casting judgment; Malia’s selfish affection and selfless interest in others. Because he loved them, he knew he would have to play dirty if he sought to be able to walk away from them.
                “I don’t have any deep reason.” Aldous carefully avoided their concerned eyes, gazing into the forest, “It’s just that my arm is gone. I don’t expect any of you to know what it’s like to lose a limb, but I sure hope you won’t force me to explain it.”
                Aldous despised himself and the fake sentiment he had uttered, even more so when he verified it had had the impact he predicted. His companions were too kind for their own good, too sensible to rub salt on someone else’s wounds. He knew they wouldn’t blame him; he could desert them and play the part of the tragic victim. He preferred that, and detesting himself for it, than having them find out he wasn’t worthy of their friendship.
                Aldous flung his luggage over his shoulder and resumed the brisk walk his comrades had interrupted. Without looking back, he heard the shifting of their feet on the dry leaves, the urge to call out his name and the hesitation that stifled it. Then the silence. They truly were too kind for their own good. It’s better this way. I know it is.
                And then Licorice appeared next to him. She was akin to a mute extension of the woods, walking next to Aldous at his own pace as naturally as an unseen root flowing beneath the earth.
                “What are you doing?” Aldous was barely able to hide his surprise, “Leave me alone.”
                “I refuse.” She replied.
                The redhead kept advancing stubbornly through the forest, and the ancient demon kept strolling by his side. Her hush was unfair: chirping birds, stirring leaves, crackling wood and rushing water, all seemed to be on Licorice’s side. At times Aldous feared he would be swallowed by the voices of the forest. But he kept walking. And so did she.
                “Why?” she asked after a couple hundred steps.
                “You don’t need to know.”
                “Tell me.” She insisted.
                “No.”
                “Tell me.” She repeated.
                “It’s a boring and lame affair.” He confessed.
                “I won’t tell anyone about it then.” She shrugged, “Talk.”
                But Aldous didn’t talk. Neither of them spoke for a while. They kept going, deeper and deeper into the woods. The human wanted Licorice to stop pestering him, and yet he found pleasure in roaming with her by his side. The unknown trees tricked him into feeling like they had left the world, and that only the two of them existed in this new one.
Licorice’s presence was an outlandish mixture of familiar comfort and distant strangeness. Her interest in him was foreign, unlike the charged emotions Bayard, or Gorken, or Malia might have brought with them. Her unclouded, golden eyes spoke of earnest curiosity as much as of taintless logic. Aldous found himself unafraid of letting her listen, and judge him even.
                “Maybe you wouldn’t get it.” He admitted at last.
                “Then explain to me every detail and every nuance, until I can ‘get it’.” Her tone was serene.
                “…I’m not sure I-”
                “Tell me.” She cut him off.
                “You’re very persuasive.” Aldous raised an eyebrow.
                “I know.” Licorice said.
                He stared up at the foliage, gathering his thoughts. “…I don’t know exactly when I became ‘awakened’. My early childhood is a vague mist that dissolves when I try to grasp it. Humans bound by the spell mate mindlessly, and I guess that’s how I was born, since my parents were never mean, never nice, only there. They fed me. That was it. But I do remember the first time I felt something intensely.” He relocated his stare on Licorice, and discovered her face had the same calming quality as the foliage, “When they took my cat.”
                “I have affinity with felines.” Licorice nodded, pleased.
                “I don’t think I do.” Aldous kept going, “But when I was a kid, I noticed a cat lived near my hut. She was a cute little thing, with a knack for getting people to feed her. I had fun playing with her, petting her, even bringing her to my house a few times. I loved that cat. One day a young immortal recruit on patrol duty noticed her, and he took a liking to her right away. Even back then I knew better than to show myself, but I peeked at him feeding her and coddling her regularly. Finally, he decided to take her with him. Being adopted by that soldier was the best thing that could happen to that cat; I knew she would have a nicer life with that man, just by looking at the frilly cushion inside the basket where he put her… And I was furious nonetheless. I felt I was being robbed. I was a child, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew my rage meant I didn’t really love the cat... I knew my bitterness was an ugly thing.”
                Licorice waited noiselessly for him to continue. He did. “I’m still that kid. I can’t help but be ugly on the inside. All this talk of changing the kingdom and saving the world… I just don’t feel it. I’ve always admired the boss, and Bayard… When we met all those years ago, I approached them with silly questions and fake laughs and they didn’t shove me away. They allowed me to stay with them. I do what they do, I go where they go, just because I want to stay with them. The more we age, the more they grow… the bigger the chasm between us is. And the scarier it is to think they’ll see me for what I am. When Malia showed up she reinforced it. She’s like them too, actually brave, actually good. Losing my arm might have been a blessing in disguise… now I have the perfect excuse to flee before they realize I’m nothing but a parasite.”
                “You’re misusing the term parasite.” Licorice said.
                “What?”
                “A parasite,” she explained, “lives on another organism and benefits by deriving nutrients at the host’s expense, without providing anything in return. I think the appropriate term to use in your case would be ‘symbiont’. A symbiosis entails that organisms are in a mutually beneficial relationship.” Licorice paused to glimpse at the butterfly that landed on her shoulder, “Perhaps it is because the subtleties of human nature escape me, but I fail to see the difference between you, your leader, the princess and Hedera’s favorite. I have however shared consciousness with my sister since birth, and she has an annoying tendency to overthink that resembles your reasoning. The biggest threat to your self-worth is your vanity, I would say. Stop putting your friends on a pedestal, get out of your own cramped head, and you’ll see that they need you just as much as you need them.”
                The butterfly fluttered from her shoulder to her hair, “I will concede that your fear of rejection is indeed both boring and lame. Can we return now?”
                “No…” Aldous was ashamed by how easily Licorice had summarized his hang-ups, “You say some pretty weird things.”
                “And you talk too much and say too little. It’s disquieting how much you resemble Hedera.” The butterfly left Licorice’s mane then, “But it’s thanks to that similarity that I know how to deal with you. I like efficiency. So I’ll be your parasite.”
                “…Excuse me?” Aldous finally stopped walking.
                “You heard me. I’m your parasite now. A shame, really.” Licorice dropped her peaceful semblance in favor of a smirk, “Lady Kadem was counting on me and my sister to confirm the location of the stone seals. Now that I’m your parasite, if you leave I’ll go with you. That will hinder the plan to break the spell. If you don’t want to inconvenience your dear friends, you’ll have to come back with me.”
                “That… That’s playing dirty! You can’t be serious!”
                “I’m always serious.” The ancient demon ran a graceful hand through her long locks, “If you ask me, you played dirty first. If you’re too much of a coward to do what you actually wish to do, I’ll force you to do it and save us all the time and the trouble.”
                She stepped closer to him and grabbed his empty sleeve, “Didn’t I tell you that humans have the unique talent to lose their way entirely? I, on the other hand, have the talent of observing and remembering. That is what my kind does best.” She tugged on the cloth, “I saw how you lost this arm. I remember. I will not forget. If you forsook your way I’ll forcibly push you back into it. And once you’re back on your path, once you realize you’re as much a noble hero as you think your friends are, then I’ll be there watching and waiting for you to thank me.”
                A noble hero. Aldous didn’t know why, but coming from Licorice the title felt legitimate. It rang true. Pride welled in his chest, reluctant tears in his eyes. “…How am I supposed to say no to that?”
                “You’re not supposed to.” Licorice sounded content.
                Aldous tried to hide his shaken expression, averse to showing anyone his crying face. One hand wasn’t enough to conceal all of it… but maybe, that wasn’t such a bad thing.

Description
I'll be posting my story here as well!  If you're interested in it, please feel free to follow my other account: ManuWrites
Thank you if you take the time to read it!

Previous Chapter:
Next Chapter:

All Chapters HERE.

CHAPTER 40: PRETENSE

                The bewildered looks on the faces of her friends proved that Aldous had said what Malia had heard. The pause after the redhead’s exit could only mean that they, too, doubted their senses. Bayard made up his mind first, rushing after Aldous with steadfast strides.
                “Gorken!” Malia stretched her arms upwards, “Please give me a hand! We need to go after him!”
                He obliged instantly, leaving the room with Malia on his back. Lyra fretted near the door, feeling she would only be a burden if she intervened in a conflict she didn’t understand. Kadem remained on her chair; her ability to read people’s emotions made her an undesirable presence in any intimate exchange. More often than not her penetrating knowledge broadened the distance between herself and others, instead of bridging it. The last thing Aldous required was a silver child encroaching on his mind.
                The twins were outwardly silent, their private debate a secret from everyone else.
                Outside, Bayard was the first to catch up to Aldous. He held his partner’s arm.
                “Let go.” Aldous turned to glance at him, “I’m not running away or anything. I’ll listen to what you have to say, and then I’ll leave.”
                “You are running away.” Bayard loosened his grip.
                “Aldous,” Gorken arrived with Malia, “if you have a proper reason for leaving I won’t stop you. But I must hear it and determine whether it is proper.”
                “Screw that!” Malia climbed off Gorken’s back, “I don’t care if you have a proper reason. I can’t let you leave with that miserable look on your face! Not after you taught me we were a team. Talk to us. Trust us.”
                Aldous loved them: Bayard’s gentle touch and his few precise words that never missed; Gorken’s fatherly tolerance and his willingness to accept it all without casting judgment; Malia’s selfish affection and selfless interest in others. Because he loved them, he knew he would have to play dirty if he sought to be able to walk away from them.
                “I don’t have any deep reason.” Aldous carefully avoided their concerned eyes, gazing into the forest, “It’s just that my arm is gone. I don’t expect any of you to know what it’s like to lose a limb, but I sure hope you won’t force me to explain it.”
                Aldous despised himself and the fake sentiment he had uttered, even more so when he verified it had had the impact he predicted. His companions were too kind for their own good, too sensible to rub salt on someone else’s wounds. He knew they wouldn’t blame him; he could desert them and play the part of the tragic victim. He preferred that, and detesting himself for it, than having them find out he wasn’t worthy of their friendship.
                Aldous flung his luggage over his shoulder and resumed the brisk walk his comrades had interrupted. Without looking back, he heard the shifting of their feet on the dry leaves, the urge to call out his name and the hesitation that stifled it. Then the silence. They truly were too kind for their own good. It’s better this way. I know it is.
                And then Licorice appeared next to him. She was akin to a mute extension of the woods, walking next to Aldous at his own pace as naturally as an unseen root flowing beneath the earth.
                “What are you doing?” Aldous was barely able to hide his surprise, “Leave me alone.”
                “I refuse.” She replied.
                The redhead kept advancing stubbornly through the forest, and the ancient demon kept strolling by his side. Her hush was unfair: chirping birds, stirring leaves, crackling wood and rushing water, all seemed to be on Licorice’s side. At times Aldous feared he would be swallowed by the voices of the forest. But he kept walking. And so did she.
                “Why?” she asked after a couple hundred steps.
                “You don’t need to know.”
                “Tell me.” She insisted.
                “No.”
                “Tell me.” She repeated.
                “It’s a boring and lame affair.” He confessed.
                “I won’t tell anyone about it then.” She shrugged, “Talk.”
                But Aldous didn’t talk. Neither of them spoke for a while. They kept going, deeper and deeper into the woods. The human wanted Licorice to stop pestering him, and yet he found pleasure in roaming with her by his side. The unknown trees tricked him into feeling like they had left the world, and that only the two of them existed in this new one.
Licorice’s presence was an outlandish mixture of familiar comfort and distant strangeness. Her interest in him was foreign, unlike the charged emotions Bayard, or Gorken, or Malia might have brought with them. Her unclouded, golden eyes spoke of earnest curiosity as much as of taintless logic. Aldous found himself unafraid of letting her listen, and judge him even.
                “Maybe you wouldn’t get it.” He admitted at last.
                “Then explain to me every detail and every nuance, until I can ‘get it’.” Her tone was serene.
                “…I’m not sure I-”
                “Tell me.” She cut him off.
                “You’re very persuasive.” Aldous raised an eyebrow.
                “I know.” Licorice said.
                He stared up at the foliage, gathering his thoughts. “…I don’t know exactly when I became ‘awakened’. My early childhood is a vague mist that dissolves when I try to grasp it. Humans bound by the spell mate mindlessly, and I guess that’s how I was born, since my parents were never mean, never nice, only there. They fed me. That was it. But I do remember the first time I felt something intensely.” He relocated his stare on Licorice, and discovered her face had the same calming quality as the foliage, “When they took my cat.”
                “I have affinity with felines.” Licorice nodded, pleased.
                “I don’t think I do.” Aldous kept going, “But when I was a kid, I noticed a cat lived near my hut. She was a cute little thing, with a knack for getting people to feed her. I had fun playing with her, petting her, even bringing her to my house a few times. I loved that cat. One day a young immortal recruit on patrol duty noticed her, and he took a liking to her right away. Even back then I knew better than to show myself, but I peeked at him feeding her and coddling her regularly. Finally, he decided to take her with him. Being adopted by that soldier was the best thing that could happen to that cat; I knew she would have a nicer life with that man, just by looking at the frilly cushion inside the basket where he put her… And I was furious nonetheless. I felt I was being robbed. I was a child, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew my rage meant I didn’t really love the cat... I knew my bitterness was an ugly thing.”
                Licorice waited noiselessly for him to continue. He did. “I’m still that kid. I can’t help but be ugly on the inside. All this talk of changing the kingdom and saving the world… I just don’t feel it. I’ve always admired the boss, and Bayard… When we met all those years ago, I approached them with silly questions and fake laughs and they didn’t shove me away. They allowed me to stay with them. I do what they do, I go where they go, just because I want to stay with them. The more we age, the more they grow… the bigger the chasm between us is. And the scarier it is to think they’ll see me for what I am. When Malia showed up she reinforced it. She’s like them too, actually brave, actually good. Losing my arm might have been a blessing in disguise… now I have the perfect excuse to flee before they realize I’m nothing but a parasite.”
                “You’re misusing the term parasite.” Licorice said.
                “What?”
                “A parasite,” she explained, “lives on another organism and benefits by deriving nutrients at the host’s expense, without providing anything in return. I think the appropriate term to use in your case would be ‘symbiont’. A symbiosis entails that organisms are in a mutually beneficial relationship.” Licorice paused to glimpse at the butterfly that landed on her shoulder, “Perhaps it is because the subtleties of human nature escape me, but I fail to see the difference between you, your leader, the princess and Hedera’s favorite. I have however shared consciousness with my sister since birth, and she has an annoying tendency to overthink that resembles your reasoning. The biggest threat to your self-worth is your vanity, I would say. Stop putting your friends on a pedestal, get out of your own cramped head, and you’ll see that they need you just as much as you need them.”
                The butterfly fluttered from her shoulder to her hair, “I will concede that your fear of rejection is indeed both boring and lame. Can we return now?”
                “No…” Aldous was ashamed by how easily Licorice had summarized his hang-ups, “You say some pretty weird things.”
                “And you talk too much and say too little. It’s disquieting how much you resemble Hedera.” The butterfly left Licorice’s mane then, “But it’s thanks to that similarity that I know how to deal with you. I like efficiency. So I’ll be your parasite.”
                “…Excuse me?” Aldous finally stopped walking.
                “You heard me. I’m your parasite now. A shame, really.” Licorice dropped her peaceful semblance in favor of a smirk, “Lady Kadem was counting on me and my sister to confirm the location of the stone seals. Now that I’m your parasite, if you leave I’ll go with you. That will hinder the plan to break the spell. If you don’t want to inconvenience your dear friends, you’ll have to come back with me.”
                “That… That’s playing dirty! You can’t be serious!”
                “I’m always serious.” The ancient demon ran a graceful hand through her long locks, “If you ask me, you played dirty first. If you’re too much of a coward to do what you actually wish to do, I’ll force you to do it and save us all the time and the trouble.”
                She stepped closer to him and grabbed his empty sleeve, “Didn’t I tell you that humans have the unique talent to lose their way entirely? I, on the other hand, have the talent of observing and remembering. That is what my kind does best.” She tugged on the cloth, “I saw how you lost this arm. I remember. I will not forget. If you forsook your way I’ll forcibly push you back into it. And once you’re back on your path, once you realize you’re as much a noble hero as you think your friends are, then I’ll be there watching and waiting for you to thank me.”
                A noble hero. Aldous didn’t know why, but coming from Licorice the title felt legitimate. It rang true. Pride welled in his chest, reluctant tears in his eyes. “…How am I supposed to say no to that?”
                “You’re not supposed to.” Licorice sounded content.
                Aldous tried to hide his shaken expression, averse to showing anyone his crying face. One hand wasn’t enough to conceal all of it… but maybe, that wasn’t such a bad thing.