Catching Up (By Reading Someone’s Mind?!)

After practicing some defiance with her mentor (and getting burned in the process), Cierne changes tactics and learns more about empathy as per Everton’s request. Things get a little deep near the end and it isn’t what Cierne expected to happen at all.

44th of Vhalar 720

Most shops, parlors, workshops, and other businesses are found here, as well as the homes of those wealthy who are not of royal title. Guilds bleed the citizens dry of coin through taxes and fees. Trade is limited in Quacia, and supplies can be expensive.
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Cierne
Approved Character
Posts: 118
Joined: Wed Aug 26, 2020 12:58 pm
Race: Naerikk
Profession: Bartender
Renown: 40
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Catching Up (By Reading Someone’s Mind?!)

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44th of Vhalar, Arc 720

After Everton had secured a thick bandage loosely around Cierne’s recently burned hand, he led her to the living room and sat her down on the floor next to the fire that was waging inside the fireplace. He joined her, crossing his legs and placing his hands palm down on the rough carpet.

“How about we move away from defiance to practice some empathy?” He suggested, smiling with an enthusiasm the Naer found difficult to reciprocate.

Her hand was throbbing, the ice that had been held against it before it was bandaged having done little to stop the heat she could feel coming from her wound. She sighed but nodded her head in agreement. She really just wanted to talk to Everton, not continue practicing her magic. But her mentor seemed very excited to teach and Cierne didn’t want to disappoint him.

“Have you ever tried to hem before?” He asked, finding his glasses and gently placing them back on the bridge of his nose. His eyes twinkled a mischievous blue as he looked at his pupil.

“Can’t say that I have,” Cierne admitted, trying her best to ignore the ache in the hand. Stupid fire, she thought, hoping the element couldn’t read her mind.

“Well, I suggest we start there then. I will let my guard down to allow you to practice on me.” He then explained the process before gesturing to Cierne by way of encouraging her to begin. She dutifully responded with a nod of her head and began to stare into her mentor’s eyes, ineptly honing in on the thoughts that swarmed his mind.

She waded through an assemblage of emotions, not quite sure what she was looking for. She easily became lost. The man had so many emotions and so many thoughts associated with them. It was difficult to keep track of what was what and where each thread was located.

“I thought you said you’d let your guard down,” Cierne muttered, squinting her eyes in frustration. She blew out a hot breath of air, which caused the strands of hair that shielded her eyes to move out of her line of vision.

Everton’s eyes darkened, but not in a way that showed anger or hostility. He was becoming more serious, lessening his avid enthusiasm from just moment’s before.

“I have,” he stated. “Not everyone’s emotions will be easy to read, Cierne. It’s best you make what you can of what you’re given.”

She furrowed her brows and pursed her lips as she reigned her focus.

“Remember what I told you about meditating. It can be helpful in clearing your own thoughts while you try to grasp another’s.”

Cierne did as she was advised, taking a step back from her mentor’s mind to gain better control over her own. She closed her eyes so that she wasn’t distracted by Everton’s icy blue orbs. She listened intently to the crackle of the fire beside her. She focused on how the carpet felt under her. It was rough, she noted. The fire was warm, and it sounded lively. She pictured it flickering and swaying like it was dancing to some music she could not hear. She envisioned herself dancing too. Dancing was an action many people did by way of expressing their freedom. It made them calmer, happier, just as it did for the Naer. But the crackling sound intervened with her mental image. Her darker nature twisted the sound so that it became angry, and she soon began to picture the abandoned building she had lit on fire several trials ago.

“Stop,” Everton commanded, which immediately made Cierne snap her eyes open.

“I could see in your face that you were not thinking of good things. Stop yourself before you let those thoughts consume you. Ignore them and continue to think about comforting things,” he instructed.

She shut her eyes again and listened to her mentor’s next words. They were encouraging, soft, and gave her something to focus on beside the crackling fire. He spoke of beaches and warm sand, of the sun’s hot rays kissing her skin. He talked about being around people she loved. She centered herself around these thoughts and went with them as they led her down a path filled with additional positive images.

“Good,” Everton commented. He had obviously seen the solace encompass his pupil’s expression, for her eyes lessened in their squinting, her mouth went slack from their puckering and her shoulders deflated from their tension.

“Now, re-enter my mind and feel,” he finished, readjusting himself so that he was sitting closer to her.

She listened and soon saw the many threads of Everton’s mind. This time she was better able to locate a thread of happiness. His guard hadn’t come down anymore than it already had, but it seemed more manageable for Cierne to move through his mind now that her head was a little more clear.

She began to use the tangle in his mind against itself and started to weave a lattice in order to prevent emotions of sorrow from being formed. She wanted her mentor’s happiness to continue to exist without hindrance from opposing forces such as sadness.

Unbeknownst to her, Everton’s eyes had closed and he had begun to give in to Cierne’s control. He was helping her of course by envisioning things that brought him content such as spending time with Cierne like he was doing right then.

She opened her eyes and saw the smile that made Everton’s face light up.

“What?” She asked with a smirk. “Thinking about a lady in a revealing red dress?”

Without opening his eyes, Everton snorted. “Focus,” he said, though his smile told her that he enjoyed his pupil’s lightheartedness.

Cierne continued with her eyes open this time. She couldn’t keep utilizing her magic with her eyes closed all the time or else she would look silly and would most likely look obvious in using her magic.

She continued to prod inside her mentor’s mind and brought forth other threads that were associated with happiness. Contentment, elation, even nostalgia, though there was always a risk with that kind of emotion (for Cierne at least). Sometimes when she would surrender herself to feelings of nostalgia, she would become sad and think about how those past times of happiness were just memories and that they may never be repeated exactly as she had experienced them.

She was becoming distracted again. A small tear slid down her cheek as she thought more about past events, happy events that were doomed to stay simply memories.

Everton opened his eyes and his pupils dilated to adjust to the lighting of the room.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, placing a gentle hand on Cierne’s knee.

She shrugged. “I miss it.”

“Miss what?”

She gestured to her surroundings and then pointed lazily to Everton. “How things used to be. I miss you guys.”

Everton smiled a sad smile and nodded his head as though he understood. Which he could. If what his gut was telling him was true, he assumed Cierne meant when she was younger and was still staying at his home.

“You mean staying here? Still being a kid?” He asked for clarification.

She gave a slight smile but returned to her previous frown. “Yea,” she murmured, hugging herself because for some reason the room had gotten much colder regardless of the fire still burning brightly beside her.

“Growing up can be difficult, I know. I’ve done it once.” He gave a short chuckle before returning to his serious disposition. “But it isn’t all bad. I mean, you can drink now, and I have to say I’ve smelled whisky on your breath a time or two.” He laughed again and this time Cierne joined in. But her laugh was a nervous one. She somehow felt guilty for having come over tipsy on more than one occasion. What kind of role model was she to the other kids if she was drunk half the time?

“Cierne,” Everton said softly, bringing her chin up with his fingers so that she was looking into his gentle gaze. “There is more to life than what you may think there is.”

The Naer suddenly got angry; a sad angry. She felt her blood boiling at his response. It didn’t matter that he had experienced growing up and becoming independent. His reactions to life were not hers. Her feelings were her own; it didn’t matter how someone else could ‘relate’ or ‘understand’. They didn’t. They couldn’t. Everyone experienced things differently and no one was Cierne but herself.

“Ev, I hate it,” she said, her voice raising and laced with a vile sorrow. “I’m barely making ends meet. I only have two friends. I don’t get to see you guys as often as I would like and I feel like I missed out on most of my childhood because my mother was a bitch.”

Everton knew not to comment on Cierne’s use of language. Why fuel the fire? Besides, what she said held water; her mother had been a terrible parent.

“But she brought you to me. Indirectly, sure, but I like to think I helped you recapture some of your lost childhood.”

Cierne was crying now. She could feel the thick globules of salt trickling down the sides of her face and she hated it. She despised feeling weak.

Everton gave her a few moments before he tentatively brought her in for a hug. “You can visit us whenever you like. And I will try to support you when you’re in need. Just because you’ve left my house doesn’t mean you’ve stopped being my girl.”

Cierne closed her eyes and took a shaky breath as she breathed in her mentor’s scent. He smelled clean like lavender but with a mix of smoke from the fire roaring beside them. She held onto his solid frame tightly for fear that he would let go too soon. He had always been such a good hugger and it was at that moment that she regretted not accepting more of his hugs when he had offered them to her in the past.

“I’m just so lost,” she whispered, the last of her tears drying on her cheeks.

“You don’t have to have all the answers right now,” he replied softly, stroking her hair. He tightened his hold on her momentarily before pulling away. “Everyone is a little lost before they find their way. There is no deadline for knowing who you are and what you want as long as you continue to strive for something better than you are now. That’s progress.”

The Naer wiped at her cheeks, feeling the scratch of the dried tears coupled with the soft fabric of her shirt sleeve.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Then she gathered her composure and added, “Don’t you dare tell anyone I just blubbered like a baby.”

Everton smiled. “That’s the Cierne I know.”

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word count: 1875
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