The annoyance quickly faded from her eyes as she eyed me, before looking passed me to the demolished wall. One hand went to her stomach, where her bandages lay under her shirt.
�The edges are cleanly cut, as if with a single blow, as were my plants,� She murmured. �And my wounds��
She closed her eyes for a moment, before shifting slightly, trying to get more comfortable. When she opened her eyes again, she looked at him sharply.
�Show it to me,� She ordered. �The knife you cut me apart with.�
Wordlessly, I took it out of my pocket and with a motion produced the blade. Despite her attempts to hide it, I saw something almost like a flinch on her face when she saw it, and she looked at it like a child looked at a stove after first getting burnt. I carefully laid it on the bed and uncurled my fingers from it, trying to ignore how loath I felt to do so with the comforting blade.
She leaned towards it, though she looked like she wanted to scoot away, and several minutes passed as she silently observed it. Just as I was about to ask her about it, she spoke again.
�A fine blade. Steel, but signs that it was re-forged several times from lesser materials. It�s several hundred years old at least and in that time�� She frowned. �This blade has killed many and it is of impeccable craftsmanship to be sure, but this blade cannot cut through walls like that, and even made of steel it would not be enough to do this to me. When first we met, I sensed this blade, and was sure it had no magic bound to its steel, and I have made sure I was not mistaken. The blood it has spilled has given it power, but a blade like this shouldn�t be able to cause me such persistent wounds.�
She lifted her eyes to mine again and narrowed them�in anger or consideration, I wasn�t sure, but it pinned me in place and I didn�t dare move.
�Then if not the blade, perhaps the wielder?� She wondered aloud, looking at me as she had the blade. �There is magic in all things, but in you it is buried deep and in no greater measure then any normal human. Perhaps if you practiced for a score of years, you could learn enough to be considered skilled, but you would never be considered for membership by the White Council�not in ten years and not in a hundred. Your body is flesh and blood and bone and it is your own. You are not a vessel for any being, nor even a suit of flesh crafted from corpses�and anything that could do this to me would all but fray Reality by lingering in this world. I am certain that you are, if not human, then at least native to this world and entirely solid and physical.�
She seemed annoyed again, but I was as lost by her words as always.
�What�s that mean?� I asked.
�It means that no matter how hard I look, I can see nothing in you that says you are anything but normal.� She said. �And yet here I lay, bleeding. I should have healed easily, but I had to completely remake my conceptual structure just to put myself back together in time for Halloween�and even still, my wounds seem loathe to heal. Even with a knife of steel, injuring me so dearly should be impossible. Perhaps it could be done with a weapon such as the White God�s Swords, but such things burn with their own power, and I would have felt it miles away. So the question is how could you match Excalibur with a simple knife?�
I looked at her, my eyes pausing over where I had cut her less than a day before, and one hand went to my glasses in a nervous gesture.
�Well, I still don�t understand anything you�re talking about, but�there is this one thing. How should I put this? I can see these lines�and if I trace them, I can cut things.�
�What?� She asked, looking shocked. I wasn�t particularly surprised. In the past, only Sensei had ever believed this story. But then she continued in a serious voice, reminding me that she wasn�t normal either. �What do you mean?�
�I mean�� I paused again, thinking of how to phrase the words. It wasn�t something I�d ever really tried to explain to anyone and Sensei had just known. I usually did my best to pretend I couldn�t see the lines at all. �I can see these lines on things�on living things, the ground, anything I can see�and if I cut along those lines with something sharp, the thing the line is on gets cut too�Does that mean anything to you? I mean, it�s kind of cool that I can cut steel with just a knife, but it�s not like I can cut things anywhere I want. I can only cut them along the lines, and when I cut you�well, you can already cut a girl�s skin with a knife, right? I don�t think it�s that amazing, really��
But she had stopped listening already and was gazing at me with wild, feline eyes. I felt like she was trying to burn a hole through me with her gaze and my voice trailed off.
��I see,� She said after a moment, closing her eyes and smiling grimly. �I suppose the world isn�t fortunate enough for Balor�s cursed eyes to stay in myth.�
She opened her eyes and looked towards the window.
�But to think I would stumble across such an unlikely monster in this country�� She sighed.
�W-what?� I protest immediately. �I don�t think someone who can come back from being chopped into pieces has any right to call me a monster!�
She looked back towards me with a raised eyebrow and there was something in the action that made it obvious she thought I was a complete idiot.�
�A monster is a monster,� She stated. �In all the Courts of Faerie, there is no one with eyes that can see the death of things.�
��See the death of things?��
Titania nodded, her gaze still harsh.
�Were you born with eyes like that, Balorian?�
�What? No; my eyes have been like this for a long time, but I wasn�t born this way.�
She frowned and tilted her head.
�Then you must have had at least one near-death experience at some point and then you started seeing them, correct?�
I nodded slowly. My memories of before the accident were sometimes blurry, but I definitely didn�t remember seeing lines before I woke up in the hospital. I�d made that connection myself, but how did she�?
�Then it�s as I suspected. You must have had the potential to see death before, but when you actually nearly died, you were able to understand it for the first time. After that, you see able to see its presence everywhere. It�s said Balor of the Evil Eye could realize the death of anything he looked at, but your eyes are obviously no match for him. I supposed we have that to be thankful for at least. But with those eyes, I suppose everything you�ve done makes sense.� Even as she spoke, she seemed lost in thought, as though she were considering something. �And with eyes like that��
The look in her eyes had changed again, but I barely noticed because this was my chance, to finally find out more about my eyes.
�The edges are cleanly cut, as if with a single blow, as were my plants,� She murmured. �And my wounds��
She closed her eyes for a moment, before shifting slightly, trying to get more comfortable. When she opened her eyes again, she looked at him sharply.
�Show it to me,� She ordered. �The knife you cut me apart with.�
Wordlessly, I took it out of my pocket and with a motion produced the blade. Despite her attempts to hide it, I saw something almost like a flinch on her face when she saw it, and she looked at it like a child looked at a stove after first getting burnt. I carefully laid it on the bed and uncurled my fingers from it, trying to ignore how loath I felt to do so with the comforting blade.
She leaned towards it, though she looked like she wanted to scoot away, and several minutes passed as she silently observed it. Just as I was about to ask her about it, she spoke again.
�A fine blade. Steel, but signs that it was re-forged several times from lesser materials. It�s several hundred years old at least and in that time�� She frowned. �This blade has killed many and it is of impeccable craftsmanship to be sure, but this blade cannot cut through walls like that, and even made of steel it would not be enough to do this to me. When first we met, I sensed this blade, and was sure it had no magic bound to its steel, and I have made sure I was not mistaken. The blood it has spilled has given it power, but a blade like this shouldn�t be able to cause me such persistent wounds.�
She lifted her eyes to mine again and narrowed them�in anger or consideration, I wasn�t sure, but it pinned me in place and I didn�t dare move.
�Then if not the blade, perhaps the wielder?� She wondered aloud, looking at me as she had the blade. �There is magic in all things, but in you it is buried deep and in no greater measure then any normal human. Perhaps if you practiced for a score of years, you could learn enough to be considered skilled, but you would never be considered for membership by the White Council�not in ten years and not in a hundred. Your body is flesh and blood and bone and it is your own. You are not a vessel for any being, nor even a suit of flesh crafted from corpses�and anything that could do this to me would all but fray Reality by lingering in this world. I am certain that you are, if not human, then at least native to this world and entirely solid and physical.�
She seemed annoyed again, but I was as lost by her words as always.
�What�s that mean?� I asked.
�It means that no matter how hard I look, I can see nothing in you that says you are anything but normal.� She said. �And yet here I lay, bleeding. I should have healed easily, but I had to completely remake my conceptual structure just to put myself back together in time for Halloween�and even still, my wounds seem loathe to heal. Even with a knife of steel, injuring me so dearly should be impossible. Perhaps it could be done with a weapon such as the White God�s Swords, but such things burn with their own power, and I would have felt it miles away. So the question is how could you match Excalibur with a simple knife?�
I looked at her, my eyes pausing over where I had cut her less than a day before, and one hand went to my glasses in a nervous gesture.
�Well, I still don�t understand anything you�re talking about, but�there is this one thing. How should I put this? I can see these lines�and if I trace them, I can cut things.�
�What?� She asked, looking shocked. I wasn�t particularly surprised. In the past, only Sensei had ever believed this story. But then she continued in a serious voice, reminding me that she wasn�t normal either. �What do you mean?�
�I mean�� I paused again, thinking of how to phrase the words. It wasn�t something I�d ever really tried to explain to anyone and Sensei had just known. I usually did my best to pretend I couldn�t see the lines at all. �I can see these lines on things�on living things, the ground, anything I can see�and if I cut along those lines with something sharp, the thing the line is on gets cut too�Does that mean anything to you? I mean, it�s kind of cool that I can cut steel with just a knife, but it�s not like I can cut things anywhere I want. I can only cut them along the lines, and when I cut you�well, you can already cut a girl�s skin with a knife, right? I don�t think it�s that amazing, really��
But she had stopped listening already and was gazing at me with wild, feline eyes. I felt like she was trying to burn a hole through me with her gaze and my voice trailed off.
��I see,� She said after a moment, closing her eyes and smiling grimly. �I suppose the world isn�t fortunate enough for Balor�s cursed eyes to stay in myth.�
She opened her eyes and looked towards the window.
�But to think I would stumble across such an unlikely monster in this country�� She sighed.
�W-what?� I protest immediately. �I don�t think someone who can come back from being chopped into pieces has any right to call me a monster!�
She looked back towards me with a raised eyebrow and there was something in the action that made it obvious she thought I was a complete idiot.�
�A monster is a monster,� She stated. �In all the Courts of Faerie, there is no one with eyes that can see the death of things.�
��See the death of things?��
Titania nodded, her gaze still harsh.
�Were you born with eyes like that, Balorian?�
�What? No; my eyes have been like this for a long time, but I wasn�t born this way.�
She frowned and tilted her head.
�Then you must have had at least one near-death experience at some point and then you started seeing them, correct?�
I nodded slowly. My memories of before the accident were sometimes blurry, but I definitely didn�t remember seeing lines before I woke up in the hospital. I�d made that connection myself, but how did she�?
�Then it�s as I suspected. You must have had the potential to see death before, but when you actually nearly died, you were able to understand it for the first time. After that, you see able to see its presence everywhere. It�s said Balor of the Evil Eye could realize the death of anything he looked at, but your eyes are obviously no match for him. I supposed we have that to be thankful for at least. But with those eyes, I suppose everything you�ve done makes sense.� Even as she spoke, she seemed lost in thought, as though she were considering something. �And with eyes like that��
The look in her eyes had changed again, but I barely noticed because this was my chance, to finally find out more about my eyes.