Dark Divide ✓ [WLW]

Chapter Six - Roots

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𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐒, Evylyn had refused to carry out her plan for several days—technically a few weeks, but she wasn't counting—following her chat with Vareia. She was too worried something would go wrong, whether from the town or from a different source. As such, she'd been cooped up in Vareia's cabin, and her only source of entertainment had been from the Cimibil's lengthy ramblings.

Right now, she'd started to go on a tangent about how she'd learn to do self-reflection, or something of the sort. Evylyn waved a hand in the air to fan out Vareia's magical incense, the potent smell of berries spreading to the rest of the room and lessening her headache into more of a dull throb.

"So, I know this Hororus, and he's, like, super calm. Impressively calm. I asked him how he did it, and he showed me. It was easier for me, because combining teachings from a goddess of tranquility and a goddess of healing was practically meant to be," Vareia said, twirling a loose curl around her finger with her back turned to Evylyn. She was wiping off her counter with a damp rag, and the way she was able to move so gracefully had practically entranced Evylyn.

"I returned to my roots after that. No pun intended. Spending time in nature really helped me realize what I should prioritize in life," Vareia continued. She glanced over her shoulder, and before Evylyn could look away, their eyes locked. Evylyn could feel her cheeks heat up as she averted her gaze.

"Which is?" Evylyn asked.

"Being kind. I know it sounds cliche, and that was the lesson of every tale our elders taught us, but it's true."

"Our? My elders told us stories with completely different endings," Evylyn said. "I'm not even going to repeat what they said."

Evylyn supposed her natural cynicism made sense; if all she'd grown up with was her elders telling her violence solved every problem and death was the first solution, she'd naturally stray to negative thinking. She wasn't sure how Vareia had 'been like her', given a healthy upbringing filled with benevolence, but she didn't really care. She didn't have to deal with a clone of herself, and for that, she was grateful.

"Try gardening. It helps clear your mind," Vareia said, letting go of her towel and wiping her hands on her silken pants. "That's one of the first things I started with."

"I..." Evylyn paused, taking a deep breath as she tried to quell the insecurities that jumped to mind. "I tried gardening once. It didn't go well."

"Why?"

"Well..." Evylyn gestured to herself, and Vareia tilted her head, her messy heap of curls falling to the side. "Nothing really ever stays alive when I'm around."

"I've stayed alive!" Vareia beamed. For the first time, Evylyn noticed she had slight dimples when she smiled. "You should give it another shot. You're more careful than I am; you would be a natural, if we can get past the whole death thing."

"The whole death thing is kind of my thing," Evylyn said, though she made sure to bite her tongue as a snarky remark danced on the tip. "Even if I wanted to give it up, which I don't, I couldn't. My physical body revolves around death."

"You can get around it," Vareia said simply. "I was thinking we go to Ensceas today."

Vareia had been thinking that every day, and every day, she was shot down. Evylyn didn't own a masking gem, and while she was sure Vareia could hold an illusion spell for their trip, she wasn't sure she wanted to make the elf do that. So her only option was the riskiest one–going in with a half-fledged disguise.