Kane stared back with wide eyes as he studied the lady's captivating face, nearly forgetting about the question in his trance. He felt his face go hot as he looked to the side, wondering what the correct answer to the question was.
Your eyes aren't even open, so he thought, wondering what kind of jewels were hidden beneath the pale eyelids, how would you even see me? He shook his head, composing himself as he looked back at her, who held her head tilted as she looked back at him. I already, broke one rule... Ah, whatever, surely there's no harm.
He nodded, staring at her blankly, until he realized the problem. Right, I forgot her eyes are closed. Why do you choose to not see? He cleared his throat. "Yes."
The lady revealed a soft smile, slowly raising her ghostly hands to Kane's face, which his gaze quickly bounced between, wearing a light frown. Her delicate hand grazed along the face mask, while the other felt the hood, and as though she could see it, she raised her brows.
"You hide your face," she said, running a hand along Kane's jaw that stuck out like the corner of a table leg, her face conveying her confusion, "why?"
Kane's eyes widened for a second as he stared at her surprised face, before he looked down at the paper, feeling a certain darkness burrow in his chest. He wanted to say that it was merely because he and his companion decided to cover their faces, but even then, that would only be half of the truth, for he also wore it out of fear and a self-esteem damaged beyond repair.
The fear lied with the thought that the people of Tyraleth would show him a harsher side that Thalamar had not. As he thought about it, memories of a repressed childhood filled with trauma rushed his mind, forcing him to tremble as he remembered the words and hatred he faced. Each word, each action, a fleeting sound and feeling leaving a lasting memory, all coalescing into his greatest fear: looking into a mirror.
Such a simple fear that any other person would think silly, though for him, he was deathly afraid, to the point where his pale skin would go paler when thinking about it. If he truly carried the appearance of an abomination; the face of one who could curdle the blood of the bravest souls; an unholy reflection of despair that no one's pity could find purchase in, then he too would grow to hate himself, thankful to be spared of the sight everyone suffered.
And so it was, that such repressed self-hatred, uprooting itself, would bring about the tears that he withheld for so long, though he did all in his power to keep them from falling. He wished that he could have a face that anyone could love, like the lady's that he did the moment he laid eyes on her, continuing to stare with trembling and watery eyes.
Yet, such efforts to hide the tears would end up in vain as he let her remove his mask and hood. He was scared to let her see—whatever that meant—but at the same time he trusted her as she laid her soft and warm hands upon him, tracing his image in her mind, while streams of tears poured down his face silently as she said:
"Who would hide such a beautiful face?"
She wiped away the tears, a palpable manifestation of years of sadness, anger, and hatred, letting her delicate hands comfort Kane's hurting soul that finally bled out the darkness that suffocated him. Such was the first time he'd heard kind words about him at first sight—at least, what he called sight, for now he understood why the lady's eyes were closed.
She was blind, and it was because she was blind that he doubted her words, lightly shaking his head even as she held his face.
"No," he said, his once clear and deep voice now a tremulous and timid one, "I... am an abomination, just as they all said." He cried more, this time struggling to keep his sniffling silent as he clenched his jaw and shut his eyes. "I am a burden on the eyes... I ruin whatever I touch... My parents left me because of how I look... These are a few of the many they said. They were the ones who made me constantly think about killing myself. They were the one's who made me wish I were never born. They were—"
He went silent, slowly opening his eyes as he felt a finger placed against his lips, while the other hand traced his features once again. She even reached for his hair that draped over the sides of his face and nape, running a hand through it, embracing its soft and thick nature.
"What is your name?" she asked, slowly pulling her hands away as she moved a bit to the side, where she started painting in black with a thin and long brush.
He opened his mouth, ready to reveal his true name, but quickly realized that if there was one rule he had to follow, it was keeping his true name a secret.
"Nethyrus," he replied, watching her paint with one hand, while holding herself up with the other. The more he looked at her the more he'd grown fond of her.
"Nethyrus? Is that really your name?"
Kane froze in place, letting an icy sensation sprawl all over. "Yes," he lied, feeling particularly guilty about this one, out of the many he'd told throughout his life.
"I see," she said, still painting in pure black, drawing thin lines across the blank sheet. "My name is Medeya... How old are you?"
Kane hesitated for a second, drawing a deep breath as he wondered just how much he should keep secret. "I turned seventeen not that long ago," he said, deciding there was no harm in revealing his age.
"Oh, really?" she asked, her usually calm and silvery voice now carrying some brightness in it as she smiled. "I turned twenty not too long ago as well. So you too are born in this snowy month of Lunus?"
"Y-yes," he replied, instinctively tossing in, "Lunus the third."
She looked up, her face wearing a light smile. "Really? I too am born on Lunus the third."
"Oh? I've met many born in Lunus, but you are the first who shares the same day as me."
Medeya looked back down, pushing her hair aside as she returned to painting. "I've met only a few people in my life so far, none sharing the month of Lunus, except for you."
"I... I see. I thought you would have known more people, given that you are the lady of the manor."
"Once upon a time, yes, but even then I was just a child." She looked up, acting as though she could see her room, smiling as she imagined it. "Many people used to come here before I was even born, for this was the once well-known Starfall Manor."
"Starfall Manor?" repeated Kane, intrigued by the revelation. Though he knew he'd come for a clear purpose, he thought it fine to spend some time learning about some history. "What happened?"
"Politics," said Medeya, sighing as she reached over for some brown paint after finishing up with a large portion of the page in black. "Times had changed, and people wanted change just as much, demanding that the noble lineages be stripped from any greater standing. I wasn't yet able to even say a word when our status had fallen from grace, but it does not bother me, for nothing tragic fell upon us."
"Where is your family?"
"My mother and father passed away peacefully, though much younger than anyone anticipated. I've been raised by Calus for the most part, who remains loyal to my father's name," she looked up at him, extending an open hand, "which extends to me. Come, I want to show you something."
Kane watched as she stood up, gently taking her hand, walking over to her side, and looking down at the painting she'd just finished. If the saying was a picture told a thousand words, then those who said so were so very wrong, for this painting told a million words as Kane stared with wide eyes, amazed at how she was able to paint a portrait of someone's face so well.
Shit, even with my sight, I could not paint nearly this well! so he thought, staring at a beautiful portrait of a seemingly lifeless person with black hair, and small facial proportions—save for the large, almond-shaped, brown eyes. Shades along the cheeks highlighted the outline of a jaw and cheekbones, while long hair dangled over the face, perfectly spread out to let the portrait stare right back into Kane's soul.
"You are an incredible painter," he said, his eyes fixed onto the slender figure in the portrait. "Who is this?"
Medeya smirked as she turned her head towards him. "That's you, silly."
Kane blinked several times out of confusion, frowning as he let the words taint the air in their silence, refusing to believe that the portrait he stared at was himself... Or was it that he didn't want to believe it? He truly questioned it.
After so many years of unending hatred, rejection, and suffering by the hands of the people of Thalamar, he truly came to believe that he was this image of a grotesque and peace-devouring monster they painted in his mind. That was why it was impossible for him to come to terms with the fact that he stared at himself.
It has to be impossible. It can't be me.
"Come with me," she said, taking hold of his hand and guiding him to the corner of the room, as though Medeya were the one guiding the blind Kane.
Well, to be honest, he was as good as blind, given he failed to get the image out of his head, which even extended to his sight. In fact, it brought upon a headache, making him feel numb in his legs.
"Take a look," she said.
Kane snapped out of it, finding himself staring into what he was most terrified of: a mirror. Though, nothing terrifying peered back at him, and in fact, it was the exact same face Medeya had claimed to be his.
"You are no monster," continued Medeya, looking at the side of his face as she smiled, "you are a handsome young man."