i thought that i heard you sing
He was no stranger to panic, but this didn’t quite feel like what he was used to whenever the rush of hysteria or frenzy would take over. This felt like something more, something drastic and sudden and terrifying. Tristan couldn’t explain it, not really, not with words, so he spent the brisk walk to the Living District channeling what he felt through that mental bond to the female voice that oftentimes spoke to him and sang him to sleep.
’Help me’ he cried out to her, throwing every feeling of fear, of yearning and terror and need for help through whatever mysterious force that tied them together was, ’Please, please, I don’t know what to do.’
There was no answer. Why? Why now, when he needed her most?
With his shoulders hunched and his chest heaving, unshed tears burning at his eyes as he gasped for breath, Tristan shouldered his way through the diminishing crowds of people, weaving in and out of the streets towards the lavish manor he had been at only once before. With every step the anxiety took hold, the panic rooting itself deeper into his brain; was he really welcome? Would he be imposing? They were hardly friends, yet Prudenzia had claimed that he was welcome anytime.
But was he really?
The encounter with Cesare had left him shaken, uprooting the already tumultuous foundation that Tristan had managed to craft after waking up with literally nothing to his person. No name, no history, no home. Ever since leaving the hospital the brunette had slaved and struggled to build a new life for himself, crafting his own mountains out of molehills. He had been happy, but now… Now he didn’t know how to feel, and so that was why he found himself standing outside of the Moonflower Chateau, seeking the only person in this world he might be able to call friend.
Sucking in a deep breath, Tristan hesitated before knocking upon the door. Even though he hadn’t cried he still wiped a sleeve against his eyes, heaving in a deep, long breath and holding it for a good few minutes as he tried to steady himself and calm his trembling. Showing up in disarray in a place like this was a little. He wasn’t even wearing anything fitting, but….
Prudenzia wouldn’t care. She wouldn’t. Eyes falling closed, lashes dampened from the tears he had forced himself to not shed, Tristan lifted a fist and knocked upon the door. It echoed briefly, and then crossing his arms in front of himself as though in a pathetic mockery of an embrace, he took a step back and waited. As it turned out he wouldn’t wait long. The staff of the Moonflower Chateau were nothing but punctual, and when the door opened to reveal one, the young blacksmith forced a smile and did his best to hide the emotional sniff.
“Good evening. Um. I was hoping to speak with miss Delaqua, please? It’s… Rather urgent.” It wasn’t, not really, but Tristan didn’t want to face this uncertainty alone. He just hoped that he wasn’t making a grave mistake, coming to someone who he knew so little about to talk about the plethora of feelings and thoughts that not even he understood.
The member of staff gave a warm smile and then stepped back, giving a nod. ’Please come in, and I’ll fetch her.’ Doing as they instructed, Tristan thanked them gently and stepped inside, hesitating a moment to wipe the bottom of his worn, dirty boots on the porch so that he wouldn’t track anything unwanted inside. Once inside he was directed to sit, and that was what he did as the staff departed, presumably to fetch Prudenzia. To keep himself occupied and his thoughts distracted, Tristan focused on admiring the very large manor that he suddenly found himself in, feeling oddly small and simple in the majesty of its extravagance and finery.
@Prudenzia Delaqua