jajaamanda
"What have you brought me?" Shyzab asked. Torin spread his hands wide. He had nothing to give. He felt terrible. He felt stupid. Of course he should have an offering Her. Then Rama brushed past him, knelt before the spare woman, and placed in her hands the five golden bangles that had been Charlotte's.
Inside, the walls were lustrous, as though they were made of metal instead of stone. There was oxidation at the corners where the ice melt seeped through. Torin and Rama simply stood and stared at the blank, spartan space with the quiet, still woman sitting at the far end of the chamber.
She'd never seen anyone like this man. Never seen anyone so fat and so opulent. He had golden rings on all of his fingers. The fat pushed out around them so they were like little garrotes. He was repulsive. She would not follow him south even if it meant her death.
She watched as Shyzab continued to mess with the collection of objects in front of her. A seashell. A small pile of crystalline sand. A pink flower from the tree. A vial of red liquid that looked like the juice she'd just drunk.
It wasn't what he had expected, if he were honest with himself. He had expected empathy. reassurance. Not reprimand. Not cruelty. But if he were honest with himself one moment more, he knew that Shyzab was right. He had lost her, and the road would be hard to find her, and he had to ask himself if it was still Charlotte who he was searching for.
It went on as far as I could see. And it had everything. It had leather spines three inches thick with ornate silver clasps. It had the newest chick lit. It had forgotten favorites from my childhood. It had that secret love I thought I had hidden forever.
She lifted him above her head, and it was like he had lost all of his substance. He was light as air, and she worried that he would float off. She was still running. She brought him down and held him to her breast. Strange, that she would be the protector. Strange that it wasn't him holding her away from the fire.