Gabriel realized his mistake the moment he made it. He had lapsed back into old habits, using a non-verbal method of politely saying no. Unfortunately, his politeness quite clearly revealed that he knew her secret; that he had secrets of his own. And that revelation begged a question that only he could answer: was he able to trust her with his secret? The answer to that question was one that only he could answer.
Withholding his trust, even from those he loved, had been his default for so long it was almost an instinct. The methods he could use to enforce that decision were legion. He could stand her up and pretend it was all a mistake. He could leave town. He could make her forget. All of these methods, and a dozens others, all had the same consequences: the destruction the friendship - the trust - that they had built up while simply co-existing in an office.
Gabriel realized he wasn’t willing to break that nascent trust. But... why? He shook his head, trying to dislodge that entire line of thought. Leaving would be the kindest of a number of unkind options. He would disappear from her life, and the use of one of his smaller secrets meant that she would forget about him quickly enough. Would Reta cry, though? Whether from noticing his absence, or because of another angry phone call, it was pretty likely she would cry as a direct result of his leaving.
Even as he was struck by such an image he unconsciously drove on, not to his condo to pack up, but to a small pub with a big name.
Gabriel was usually skilled at making small talk, but he found that he couldn’t manage much more than a mumbled order for a scotch ale and a wan smile. Reta also didn’t try to fill the air, but her silence felt like it was waiting for a bit of privacy. Gabriel did notice that she ordered a hard apple cider, a drink that felt like it fit her remarkably well. He dredged up a smirk from somewhere and poked at her verbally, “Apple Cider?” His query earned him another fist against his shoulder, and he found himself relaxing in response to their familiar exchange. His smile was genuine now, at least as genuine as her exasperation.
They found a booth in a far corner, offering both distance and isolation from the other patrons. They sat on the dark wood benches, and bantered idly about their day until their drinks were delivered. After the waitress left, Reta drew a sigil on the table with a finger, affording them privacy by preventing others from overhearing their conversation. He nursed his first sip of the brew, enjoying the smoky taste of the ale on his tongue. But… he was procrastinating. With a reluctance borne solely out of habit, he held out both of his hands with his palms up. “I believe it’s time for introductions once more. My name in this time and place is Gabriel Shophar.”
Reta didn’t even hesitate before covering his palms with her own. “My name is Na’re’ta Velvetprong. May I ask you what you mean when you say ‘in this time’?”
Gabriel couldn’t entirely hide his slight wince at her question. Yup, she had noticed. He took her left hand and pulled her closer, placing that hand between his own and his heart. It was a silent but solemn request for secrecy, the request answered by her pledge as she covered his hand with her own. “I am unable to…”, he shook his head, then started again. “Due to a pact I made many years ago, I cannot use of my own name. And so, I am borrowing the name of a brother until I am may reclaim my own.”
Reta’s eyebrows came together in concentration, her mind trying to piece together the puzzle he had given her. Gabe found that he enjoyed that particular look on her face. He shifted slightly, telling her with his posture that he had a question for her. She blushed and stammered a quick apology, and their hands moved back to the greeting they had started with. This time she took a receptive pose, and he smiled in acknowledgement. “Will you tell me about your name?”
“As you’ve apparently already figured out - and I’m dying to know how - I am an Amaranthine scion of the Velvetprong deer clan.”
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Gabriel frowned as a story he had heard came to the forefront of his mind. “I thought I had heard that the Velvetprong clan…” he trailed off, realizing too late that he was likely treading on painful ground.
“No, you’re not wrong. They were wiped out by a wolf pack about three hundred years ago. Normally, a wolf pack wouldn’t stand a chance against an Amaranthine deer clan, but this particular pack was being lead by a blood-crazed Amaranthine wolf. A few of the younger fawns, including myself, escaped via a combination of our inborn ability to hide, and sheer blind luck.” She broke their clasp with her right hand, and took a deep draft of her beer. He squeezed her other hand with both of his own, a silent apology for the fawn she had once been. She smiled and squeezed back, then continued, “Don’t worry too much, I was so young that I don’t remember the attack. Shortly after their attack on the Velvetprong clan, the wolf pack made the mistake of going after an Amaranthine bear cub. No wolf pack, Amaranthine lead or not, survives angering a clan of bears.”
Gabriel put a few things together, and immediately sputtered, “Wait, wait wait. A bear clan raised a fawn?!”
Reta giggled, “Yup, adopted into their clan and everything. And not just me, all of the remaining Velvetprong fawns. I adore my adopted clan, they are absolute softies.” Gabriel had trouble picturing this. He knew which bear clan lived near this city.
“I have to categorically refuse any description of a Grizzly clan that includes the word ‘softie’,” he muttered while shaking his head. Reta apparently felt compelled to stick up for her family, since she graced him with another slug against his arm. With more self-interest than tact, he changed the topic, “So, how did you find yourself working in the software development world?”
“Oh, that’s actually pretty straightforward,” she responded, “I studied Computer Science at a nearby university after reaching my attainment, and Doug gave me a job shortly after I graduated.” They both paused for a few moments to sip on their drinks, their silence once again comfortable. Still, Gabriel knew that more questions waited.
“How did you know?” The question he had been anticipating had finally arrived. His decision to trust her or not was now upon him. And yet, he knew that he had already made his decision.
“I can see past illusions, and even most wards. I’ve known since I first saw you.”
Reta looked absolutely floored. “You knew that I was Amaranthine from the first time you saw me?” She immediately moved on before Gabriel could respond, “Why didn’t you say something?”
His smile felt a bit strained as he answered her question with his own, “What would you have done if I’d approached you that first day and started flashing etiquette? Your kind are always a bit... suspicious of such overtures when they come from non-Amaranthine. Not that I blame you.”
Reta furrowed her brows at that response. “My kind? Aren’t you also an Amaranthine, behind your illusions?”
“Beyond holding back my abilities, I wear no illusions. No, I’m not Amaranthine,” he responded, quietly. Gabriel knew that his face was showing a few of the strong emotions he felt, but he wasn’t going to try and hide them from her. Not anymore. She took his hand and pressed it to her chest, both promising secrecy and asking for his trust.
“What are you then? Your soul feels like an Amaranthine’s, yet it’s... not.” Gabriel knew that his warded soul - which their touch allowed her to glimpse at - looked similar to her own on the surface. Her eyes were now unfocused, and he knew that she was looking deeper, finding the differences.
Gabriel pressed his own hand over the top of hers, a mirror of their earlier actions; though both times had been related his secrets. With a thought, he spun out his own sigils to reinforce hers, holding this part of their conversation sacrosanct from even others of his kind. “Think back to some of your oldest stories. Amaranthine and their bond-mates are not the only ones who walk this world for ages on end.”
He watched her eyes open in disbelief as the puzzle pieces he had given her began to snap into place. “But you’re not... you don’t...” she couldn’t complete the thought, the truths about his existence warring with everything she thought she knew.
“You’re right. I don’t shine a path to guide souls, nor do I spread golden seeds, and I certainly don’t whisper about possible futures to feline ears.” Gabriel licked his lips and continued, finding it easier to guide her discovery than say it out loud. “There’s another story, much older and rarer than that of Soriel and his kin, yet I think you know of it too. A story that speaks of the lamplighter of the night skies, the one who gave up Heaven.”
Reta’s mouth flopped open, her surprise too great to contain. It took her almost a minute of aborted starts to get the words she wanted to say out. “You’re one of the Fallen?”