Separation and Desire

The priests at the temple of Myrmidia in Conserta had recognized the female Knight right away, which had only served to add to Giacinta’s confusion.  She had become anxious when the idea of summoning her family from Luccini was brought up, and had started to hyperventilate, and had summarily collapsed upon the weathered tile floor.  The Slayer, Brexar, had taken his leave shortly after, as he had duties of his own to attend to.

And so it was decided that, although her family would be contacted, they would not be permitted to see her, and that she was to be cared for by the healers at a monastery far to the north near Firento, who had cured others with such ailments in the past.

The trip had been a long one, but without incident.  And now Giacinta found herself garbed in a partial breastplate of bronze and armor of padded leather, attempting to swing a sword and successfully hit a target dummy.  So far her goal had not been met.  Her body seemed willing and able enough, but her mind somehow could not control it.  Miss after miss after miss only served to make her feel even more strange, and finally, in desperation she dropped the sword and shield and strode off towards the monastery’s long and narrow abandoned wing.

As she moved through the somewhat overgrown formal garden and under the arched entrance way, she slowly removed her gloves to tuck them into her belt.  And there it was on her finger, and seeing the elvish metalwork caused a wave of emotion to swell up inside her chest that seemed foreign and familiar all at once.

It was a very strong feeling, and it compelled her to go to the first closed door in the hall, open it, and peer inside.  But of course the room was filled with nothing but unused furniture that had been stacked in a corner, cobwebs connecting the forlorn legs of tables and chairs like a death shroud, and an open book lying spine-up and forgotten upon the dusty mattress of a deserted bed.  A small black scorpion skittered into the middle of the room and then paused, flexing its claws as if questioning Giacinta why she had disturbed its domain.

But Giacinta did not step farther into the room, so deep was she into her own thoughts.  She felt as if there was something she must do.  As the monks had instructed her, she tried not to remember details, but tried instead to concentrate on the emotions that sprang vividly into her heart.  After battle… after battle… she so wanted to go to the man she loved, and hold him.  Just hold him, make him real, look into his eyes, curl up and let him curl around her, rest, be at peace and know that it was truly where she should be.  And let him fan her passions into a blaze and know it was truth.

Giacinta felt her eyes becoming hot, and tears began to run down her cheeks.  No images came, no hints of who this man might be, and then the longing subsided into the numbness of daily platitude.  Closing the door and leaving the scorpion to its home, she slowly wandered down the hall, eventually opening every door before returning, unfulfilled, to the training area.