She's got the devil's eyes
She watches him approach with something almost akin to affection touching her normally still features. But then, they are alone here, and despite her so often impassive demeanor, she is not truly made of stone. She does have a heart, even if she hides it too well sometimes. He might have struggled when they had first met to find her beneath the careful mask she so often wears, but perhaps he has developed a better understanding now.
Of course, she so rarely admits the true depth of her own emotions, even to herself. She might admit to protecting herself from the vagaries of the world, but at the heart of the matter, she was protecting herself from, well, herself.
A dangerous truth, to be sure.
A faint smile curves her lips as he wryly teases her. The world might continue in his absence, but age and time has rather set her into herself. She doubts she could change her nature at this point, even if she wanted to.
She makes no further response until he is settled beside her, the questions that must have been burning inside him already falling from his lips. She could not fault him for wondering why he had been called. Why she had ceded to his grandfather’s request. They are, of course, the most base of reasons, though one often only gained through experience. Of course, she wasn’t entirely certain Wyrm realized, despite his age and experience, that her concession had not been a concession at all.
No, it had been a way for her gain control of the situation. Something he doubtless would never have wished had he realized it.
For a long moment, she muses on his questions silently, her blue eyes inscrutable as she watches him. After a time, she turns her gaze to the lake almost speculatively as she finally offers him an explanation. “You are aware, of course, that the lands of old used to contain magic,” she begins, framing it as a statement rather than a question. Of course he was aware. “Though the magic faded from them a long time ago, your grandfather…” she pauses briefly, a faint sigh brushing past her lips “...persists in his beliefs of those old magics.”
Wyrm had ripped out his own eyes to keep her from knowledge. Except he seems to have forgotten how often and how thoroughly she had once explored his sight. He might try to prevent her from finding him now, but he could not erase what she already knows.
She finds it ironic though. A self-fulfilling prophecy, if you will. Had Wyrm let sleeping dogs lie, they might have never come to this.
“And you, unfortunately,” she finally continues, her sharp gaze returning to Wolfbane, “are at the center of it.” Her lips twitch slightly, faintly amused at the juxtaposition they find themselves in. “They might only have been fevered imaginations, but he decided the make them real.”
Perhaps Wyrm had seen some truth in the burning tree all those years ago. But Heartfire had always been a firm believer that one makes one’s own destiny.
and they'll cut you like a weapon
I wrote you a novel oops :|