Aislyn is not really in the position to judge anyone else, not that she ever has been, or that she ever did. When she had been younger and kinder the thoughts had never crossed her mind. Now that she was older (not by much – she was still young, especially in comparison to a land that was so old) and a little more battle-scarred, from her own trauma had sprung more empathy than what she had been born with. It didn’t show much on her closed-off face, but internally she felt something similar to pity.
He reminded her of an echo; like he was empty and just the remnant of something else. She wonders what he had been like before whatever happened to him – whatever turned his tears to gold.
“It doesn’t seem like much of a reward,” she says a little dryly, though she assumes he already knows that.
Her eyes soften a little though the longer she looks at him, and she notices that beneath the stream of tears he is unusually handsome. That wasn’t something she often noticed about anyone, and certainly not someone that was dripping with sorrow. She wonders if this is some sort of trap – to be unnaturally attractive but also streaked with golden tears? It sounded like the perfect way to lure in someone sweet and unsuspecting.
Carefully masking the suspicion from her face she asks him, “Who were you trying to save?”
Aislyn
she set fire to all the things that held her back
and from the ashes she stepped into who she always was