The Girl Who Cried Thief

Speaking With Dragons

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Now, the story continues....

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Asmiir's P.O.V.

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that you were starting to warm up to me," I smiled from the other side of the room as I watched Faendal. The first six year that we had shared a room, he was barely even there, and didn't dare speak to me. He was cold and brooding, to say the least. However, for the past six or seven months, he had been present more, and made small talk about a job or something he would happen to run across while he was on his own time. We'd grown quite close. It was...quite nice.

He looked up from his book; his white hair was out of his everlasting ponytail, and hung loosely on his shoulders and framed his face as his sharp, hazel eyes glimmered. He was beautiful. "What an odd thing to say, Asmiir," he said in a soft voice, a phrase he would often say when I commented on how well we were getting along. I thought the way he said my name was pleasant, almost as if I were a dear friend to him, or perhaps even a little sister who had simply asked a question about the wonders of the universe.

"Odd?" I laughed quietly. "This is the first time I've seen you look fond of me, ever."

"...I've always been quite fond of you."

I stopped laughing, my heart racing. What? "What in Hammerfell do you mean, Faendal?" I asked, sitting up straighter on my bed.

He let out an exhausted sigh and laid his open book down, freeing himself from his blankets. Crossing the space between both beds, he stood at the side of mine. I gulped. He sighed again, this time with a smile. "May I join you?" he spoke quietly, as if something would shatter if he spoke too loud. I nodded, eventually and reluctantly, and he curled up next to me on the bed, his head against the wall.

With the golden light of the lantern, he seemed even more beautiful. "I suppose I was quite cold to you at one point, wasn't I?" he laughed small and light. I nodded vigorously, and we both laughed in unison. "You have a nice laugh, Faendal," I observed, smiling at him. There was surprise in his eyes, then something softer, much softer. Something I'd never seen in someone's eyes when they looked upon me. "You are..." his lips pressed into a firm line, his brow furrowing. Then he shook his head, his white hair moving in front of his face as he did so.
I reached for his hand to comfort him.

He caught it before I could.

It was a warm feeling, and I could tell that he felt it as well. My heart raced even faster; what was this?!

"You are..." he started again, looking me completely in the eye. I wanted to flinch under his stare, but my body didn't react that way. Instead, it tried to reach for more of him, some part of him to comfort him. Faendal caught my hand again, pulling me closer. "...such a friend to me. Maybe even closer than that. Maybe family."
My heart felt let down, and I couldn't explain it, but Faendal seemed let down as well. His brow was furrowed once again, but in disappointment, as he released my hands. "I like hearing that," I smiled reassuringly at him. He seemed to appreciate it and smiled back.
In one quick movement, he jumped from the bed and onto the floor, extending his hand to me. "Come, I have something I want to show you, something I've never shown anyone," he grinned childishly. I raised an eyebrow, a smirk on my face. "Wow, Faendal!" I mock exclaimed. "I must be pretty special to see what ever this is!" I took his hand.
He looked at me once more with that soft expression.