It is for Ruin - Chapter VII

It is for Ruin
Chapter VII

“Would you please run that by me again?”

There were fewer things in the world that mattered most, than generally the expression that Soryk had received when he finally confronted Ei`riya. Of course, it had all been a part of his plan; he would act perfectly uninterested and once she was hooked onto the line that would eventually lead to his progression, then he would drop her. It would be so easy to do. All he had to do was thinking about how terribly grotesque his mother was in terms of being a woman. And when he thought like that, it completely destroyed any potential he had to be a husband, or to even have the desire of being one.

Or perhaps it simply killed the yearning to see women as anything other than mere sacks of flesh that wobbled about stupidly, and waxed idiotic in their free time.

Whatever the case was, Soryk was plainly unamused. The words had left her lips and his once soft expression hardened and became more like a stone, something never-changing, but would only wither away with aging.

His companion knew well enough that he had little intentions of openly saying anything regarding his feelings. In fact, it was likely known by the remnants of Silvermoon, or at least those in his immediate vicinity. He wouldn’t have said that he was renowned amongst his kind. He wouldn’t have even claimed that his name was anything related to the larger houses of the town. Perhaps at one point in time, it had been larger. Now it was next to nothing, or like all things did with time, it changed. He never asked his mother about their family name or their history. That sort of thing didn’t matter to him. What did matter, however, was the idea that he had control over whom and what he changed into.

So it came as no surprise that he immediately folded his arms over his chest and stared at the dark-haired magistrix at his side. It had been enough time in passing for him to make this decision, and to finally say something, especially the way his mother hounded him. Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into years. You know the spiel, and you’ve probably read it a great number of times in other books. In the end, time is simply a restraint, and it was one that not even Soryk would find himself confined to.

“You heard exactly what I had to say,” he replied firmly.

Ei`riya’s cheeks were pink. It wasn’t the obnoxious sort of color; not the one where it seems so radiant that one wishes for blindness. It was a softer tint, like it was scarcely noticeable. In fact, Soryk had decided it was his favorite reaction from her. He thought she looked absolutely perfect when the light would hit her from the particular angle that it would show off that humiliation. Embarrassment. Whatever it was she was thinking in that complicated head of hers. Of course, he would never say this, but they were things he often thought about. It seemed well within boundaries, especially when he was able to use his manipulative scheme as justification for his feelings.

“I intend on using her,” he would say to himself. “Therefore, it’s all right for me to admit that I like this or that about her. After all, the supreme beings likely created her for only me. She will only be mine. No other shall have her. She will belong to only me, love only me, look only to me. Only me.”

She began as a possession.

He watched her lift a hand into her hair, a perfect contrast between pale flesh and dark strands that could easily blot out the sun. Her posture adjusted, something he noticed she would do when she grew anxious or nervous. Good. She was acting exactly the way he wanted her to. He’d wanted her to be thrilled. He’d wanted her to inwardly question if she was really good enough for him. She had been the one to place her sights onto him. He would need to ensure that she’d question herself. Perhaps she’d been a fool, he thought she’d ask herself. Perhaps she’d been an idiot, believing that a man like him could ever love a woman like her.

Wait.

When did the word ‘love’ ever enter this picture?

Once more, Soryk chose to use his future plans as a means of putting that disturbing thought aside. There could be no time for love. There could be no patience for love. Love, itself, in the least, could not exist when it came to him and Ei`riya. It would complicate things far more than he would ever wish for. He wanted to make it all a little simpler, so if she suddenly decided she was going to torment him, he’d simply end it all by taking a blade to her throat. Staining his hands with blood was the least of his worries.

“…I… I do not know what to say, Lord Valchion,” his companion finally confessed. “You are teasing me, are you not? Playing with me as you must play with the hearts of many females.” She laughed, as though she felt foolish, or sheepish. “You have no interest in anyone of that nature. You are a strong man, filled with valor and wonder. Your mother tells everyone that you are just like your father, who is no longer here.”

Ei`riya shook her head, “It is idiotic of me to think that you do not long for something greater than anything here could offer you. You would sooner leave than give anyone your heart. It is sad. It is pathetic, perhaps, as that is the word you would use. It is the word you have used many a time to describe me as a person, or things I do, or things I say, or things I feel.”

Turning to him, her hand lowered and laced with the other. She tipped her head to the side and looked him over carefully, giving him a far greater examination than she had ever given to him before. “Like you are not a foolish man, I am not a foolish woman. I apologize, but I find that your words cannot be in any way sincere. You are taking pity on me. You must believe I am older and therefore unable to appropriately progress through life.”

Perhaps she would have continued speaking. At least, her lips were still moving, though Soryk had begun to tune her out. It wasn’t anything against her voice. He was simply annoyed by the words she chose to use. Yes, she was right. She’d listened a lot more than he’d given her credit for. Most of the time, he thought she was simply ignoring what he said and moving along with her own agenda—which at times proved to be a bit impressive. Instead, here she was, being more observant than he had hoped for. In those respects, there was a chance that she would catch onto what he was doing. Then she could stop him.

Worse yet, she could take advantage of his lack of arcane and pump him full of it until the physical manifestation came spewing out of his eye sockets. In his opinion, that seemed a far worse way to pass into the world of the dead. There was no honor in letting someone else take his life. In those fateful moments, he would have preferred to draw a dagger from it’s sheathe and plunge it into his incorrigible heart.

When he thought she had finished, he looked bored. The irritation had quickly melted away and was replaced with the temptation to simply leave her behind and make for a nap beneath one of the trees in the forest. Of course, if he’d truly done this, he never would have heard the end of it. Ei`riya would come down like the hammer that had been used to initially pierce the needle through the lobe of his right ear. Well, perhaps that was a little different, and at the very least a different situation, but the pain could likely be considered about the same. And if not the physical pain, then the mental that came with trying to understand the predicament and how it had come to be in the first place.

“Please tell me, D’Aubigné, do you ever listen to yourself speak?” Soryk gestured with his left hand, not at anything in particular, but rather simply for the sake of motioning about, “Or do you just talk and hope that you make some sort of sense?”

Without even letting her answer, as it was more a rhetorical inquiry and meant to make her think, he pressed on. This might have been the only chance he would have to be so upfront with her. That way he could at least say he had been once in his life. It would, perhaps, save others from judging him. Though the chances of that happening were slim to none.

“I’m well aware of things I’ve said or done or thought. I don’t necessarily need you repeating them. After all, I tend to say the things I mean and mean exactly what I say once the words pour over my lips. Yes, women are foolish creatures, but aren’t men as well? Don’t you think I view my father in the same aspect? He ran off, left his wife and his son behind, all because he thinks glory is something to be held in the hand. His real glory is the one that’s here with his family. Will he ever know that?”

Soryk shook his head.

“No. By the time he even learns that lesson, he’ll have been dead for a good amount of time. If he’s never given access to that other world, then he’ll deserve the damned position of being stuck between the living and the Everlasting.”

His hands were moving again, “The point I’m trying to make is that men and women are foolish alike. While I think this, however, I don’t believe I’m one, and I don’t believe, after having the opportunity to observe you as long as I have, that you are either.” Soryk’s lips began to curl up into that smirk, the sign that he was so close to a genuine smile, but just wasn’t feeling it yet.

“I think, at times, you pretend you’re stupid, or a fool, but never that you actually are. After all, if you were, you’d probably never be able to progress the way you have in your studies beneath magistrix peers.”

The moment she parted her lips, he silenced her with a shake of his head. She had that habit that young girls often had, to interrupt others, especially those who were wiser. It would need to be something he broke her of. After all, if he didn’t, he was likely to become so grossly annoyed with her actions, that he’d lift a hand and physically harm her, much the way he’d wanted to do with his mother. Marks on Ei`riya, however, couldn’t be explained with a simple excuse of ‘self defense’. As he always had, he would need to watch himself.

“So you can’t bring yourself to believe what I have to say. Very well. That’s valid, comprehensible, and understandable,” he chose to admit, and to agree. “It means I will have to at least find a way to show you that these words are quite genuine. Originally, I’d thought it would be a feat difficult to accomplish, but I had thought you would react this way, so in actuality, I’ve been prepared all along.”

It was the sign of a strategist, or a tactician. Soryk’s ability to concoct formulas in the depths of his mind regarding anything from the simple growth of a plant to the complicated calculation of an angle in an attempt to catch an unsuspecting rabbit—it was all spectacular. At least, that’s what he would have said if someone had asked him. No one had, though, which meant it was one less arrogant thing for him to share with others.

In light of this, Soryk came to find that he would benefit in any position he was placed into. It was really a chain. He would prove a valuable asset to anyone who thought they could control him or tame him. He could use his talents to astound others, and worm his way into the social ladders and associations. Then he could use his darker traits to destroy things from the inside after he’d infiltrated, cause mutinies, and take over as the leader at the top.

It all sounded rather perfect when he went over it with himself.

“You… knew I would act this way?” Ei`riya asked, rather uncertainly.

She must have been uncomfortable with the idea that he watched her so closely. Perhaps she had truly believed he held no interest in her. Or perhaps she simply didn’t know that he watched all people with the same intent that he had scrutinized her. It was as equally enjoyable to see as the rare blushes that kissed her cheeks.

Soryk nodded once. It was a curt motion, one that very blatantly spoke more than simple words could say. It was the combination of the positioning of lips and the expression that he forced through his eyes, hiding the ulterior motives beneath as he always had.

Then he approached her. Lifting an arm, he slipped it around her shoulders and with his free hand, withdrew a small scroll. Across it was Thalassian, the language of their people, and in fine writing, one that only came from someone who was well-educated and suffered a great tutelage at the hands of a master of the arts.

He rewarded her with a good-natured glance and nodded once.

“Allow me, if I may, to recite it all for you. Then you will know that what I say is true and not some glorious lie.”