Used to Be

The darkness fled at her touch, what threats might have lurked beneath its shroud shrunk into the distance at the softness of her voice, the radiance she brought with her as she embraced him in the rain. Imogen joined them, curling herself around Roland's leg, and he felt a swell of gratitude in his chest, that he was lucky enough to have the two of them there, to catch him and set him back upon his feet. The solitude, the loneliness, might have eaten away at his resilience in the unsettling darkness, and Roland shuddered to think of what could have become of him if he failed to find his way.  Lena released him then from her hold, and the warmth faded from his skin as she drew back to appraise him. The rain continued to fall, sliding across his skin with a chilling bite, but it was a small annoyance in the face of everything else he had been confronted with. He eyed Lena as she looked him up and down, gaze lingering on the wounds he had sustained in his brief, and yet tumultuous, travels. His knees were sore, and his limbs ached, but he did his best to appear unaffected by it all, to stand tall and confident in the midst of so many unknowns, and not allow himself to be weakened by a few cuts and bruises. The last thing he wanted was for her to worry about him, to burden her with more concerns when there were greater problems ahead. Roland had no idea what stretched beyond the edges of the dark forest and torrent of rain. Perhaps there were blue skies and pale sand beaches that swept away from this cesspool of shadows, a sun bathed haven waiting over the horizon, but there was something about the way Lena held herself that warned him against such hopes. It was unlikely they had been thrown into anything unlike purgatory. He knew the answer to her question, or rather convinced himself of it, ignoring the aches and pains, the uneasiness he felt settling itself further into his bones with every raindrop. "Yes, I'm ok." In spite of it all, he managed the smallest of smiles for her, a moment of composure when he wanted to gasp for air.  Much to his relief, she returned to him, tucking herself back into the space beneath his throat, where she belonged. Roland curled around her, drawing everything he could from their embrace and committing it to memory, to fuel him on through every trial they might face. Lena put a name to the place around them, a word that was neither soft nor unassuming, but rang of conflict and fractures, like something torn, shredded, forced into existence, and yet it seemed fitting. It was how it made him feel, stuck in a middle ground, a liminal space, as if at any moment the ground might drop out from underneath him. Perhaps he just needed time to grow accustomed to it all. At once he missed the snow, the biting winds, the coldest of winters weathered in the icy caves of the far north. They paled in comparison to the discomfort he felt in an unfamiliar darkness, without a light to guide their way. Lena offered little else about the nature of the Rift, meaning much of it remained undiscovered; or, she was sparing him the most gruesome of details, allowing him that feeble, futile spark of hope, to nurture it a little longer, until he could find the answers for himself. "Is there somewhere we can go?" Roland asked against her skin. He longed for shelter, warmth, the familiarity of voices and bodies moving about, some semblance of a makeshift home to covet until he could find his footing. It was time to take his first steps into a new realm. Push your luck if it makes you a promise that turns con men honest.