Darling & Commander

The Nymph: 20

Gallaleigha POV:

When I return from my journey to the lavatory, I find Tyson and Brock conversing with grave demeanors. I come from behind them, poking Tyson in the ribs to induce his little jump.

"How long shall you be around the village, Tys?" I ask him, and his devilish nature reveals itself in the rueful grin rupturing the serious features that had invaded his soft edges.

"Only for the week. It is indeed a short sojourn, as I must prepare my glasswares for my visit to the east kingdoms. Perhaps you might find yourself returning to assist me in repackaging my goods? I could make good use of an extra set of hands, and I can put on a kettle." He invites with a toothy grin.

"I should like that very much." I blush, beaming at him at the thought of a day with my friend.

"Very well. See you tomorrow at noon." He nods, letting the general seizing me tight guide me away as I wave him farewell.

Brock stays silent as we depart, and it reminds me of when we first met. How harsh and unforgiving he feigned to appear, when now, he is my greatest ally. My closest friend.

Not that I would understand anything of friendship.

"Whatever holds your attention, commander?" I lace my fingers through his like inosculation I have seen between trees in the spring when they shoot up too close together.

"You do, as I find all of my time spent these days." He nods, gravelly voice something I've grown well habituated to.

"Do tell."

"Your friend, Tyson... he did not speak of any particulars, but did mention you have been heartsick upon a time. May I..." He waffles, avoiding any contact in our gaze.

My mind returns to the melancholy memories of a dismal time in my life. I may be sweet and warm now, but it took quite a journey to get where I am. I give Brock a nod of consent, and he finishes his sentence.

"Will you tell me? I want to understand where your mind travels to when I see that starry eyed gander." I did not know I had such an expression.

"I- it was long ago, Brock. Very long ago, and we were young. He never- he never could want me the way I fancied him to, and so I fell into a despondency." My breathing spliced for a millisecond. "He saw me as an object, and I was desperate for someone who truly cared. So I let him exploit me. I was so forlorn and despairing for anyone to bail me from my solitary existence, it could have been anyone. He abused what I offered him, and... I let him."

Brock remains silent, but he halts in the forest pathway we follow. I release our fingers from their plaited state, only to look up at his tight expression mirrored by furious clouds threatening a shower, and potentially thunderbolts.

"Oh, goodness, it was so sunny before, I suppose the noon weather is to bring on quite some-"

"Hush." Brock cuts off my graceless babbles, grabbing me with no mercy only to lift me, crushed to the strong abs of his chest.

"Brock- what is-" I blurt, face forcefully tucked into his neck and both our shirts suddenly too diaphanous for my fondness.

He doesn't say a word, just holds on arm to support my back and the other my posterior. I hear a resound from the atmosphere above us, and shiver.

"We must get back to-"

"Galla. My darling." He clenches control of my chin, handling it to face down at him. "Do not let anyone manipulate or objectify you ever again. It antagonizes the merciless cutthroat in me, and if you tell me his name I am afraid I may have to leave you in order to hunt this man down and slaughter him."

My eyes grow wide, and the heaviness that latches to the insides of my chest almost evaporate instantly at his protective nature he conserves only for me.

"I- Brock, you truly must not go around speaking-"

"Do not." He snarls. "Do not tell me not to speak like this. I promise you, no one with intentions of hostile intent will ever come near you again. I will make sure of it personally, with methods I am not sure you care to know. Anyone who takes advantage of this beauty, this innocence is a dunce. A true, true dunce. Do not allow them to take anything from you, Galla. Your soul and body is not for anyone but yourself. I hate- I hold incredible malevolence to anyone who touched your porcelaneous being with their grubby, greedy hands. I would rip them off myself, if that is what it may take to be rid of this rage that clouds my thoughts when I think of your helpless needs they so atrociously milked for their own."

I blink as he growls these words out, barely able to verbalize them with just how livid he has found himself adapting to. His amber eyes search mine, urgent and frantic for some manner of release. His thick lashes blinking up at me like the arboreal black oaks I arise to every daybreak, fair skin he arrived with now coated in the hours of sun he has spent with myself. It makes him all the more stunning, and I want to cover his skin in my initials I do not know by virtue of illiteracy. The way his canine teeth bare with one movement of his thin lips, seemingly lost in this wrath he has permitted himself into.

"Brock. This past lover-"

"He was not a lover, he was a-"

"Let me speak!" I exclaim, eyebrows falling slanted until he purses his lips in accord. "He was incredibly wrong. Everything about him screamed at me to abscond, but it was I that did not care. I that allowed him to misuse me as he did, I that let his hands on me!"

Brock's face turns morose, broad joints carrying his head slumping down as he stumbles over to a tree, my body's backside he still possesses hitting the dewy damp bark of a tree. His head rests on my shoulder, failing to meet my gaze as he wedges my flesh between him and the trunk of this plant. My body shivers as his body wholly collides with mine, setting a forest fire on my body, and the temperature might as well have set the entire sector in a blazing conflagration.

I smell smoke.

That wasn't just my ingenuity.

Thunder crackles.