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"Why didn't I trade you when I had the chance?"

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MY EYES LINGERED on him for only a moment before turning around, my heart beating harshly inside of me, looking around for Raskei. My fingers were tightly curled around my back strap and my breathing was ragged.

Where was she? Had she said anything to him of what she had seen back in the chamber?

"She's not here," Harvest grunted out, and I turned back to look at him once and for all, noticing that he seemed to be writing down a few things, hand shifting over a page, his eyes once again focused on anything but the person he was addressing.

I hated when he did that.

For some reason, it just creeped me out.

His eyes trailed up to me, the pen in his hand resting before he tucked it in his breast pocket getting up.

My eyes trailed to the floor, breathing low, the sounds of his footsteps growing heavier the closer he came to me.

I looked up when they stopped a few feet away from me, his deep sea eyes resting in mine for a second, a hand tucked in his coat.

"She left ten minutes ago, exactly how long it took you to find your way out of the chamber-" He stated calmly.

My eyebrows arched at this. How much was it that Harvest knew?

I was pretty sure Lira's only knew Raskei was unspoken but I hardly think she would know of chambers and memories that moved around us like screens.

But Harvest knew.

How?

Did Raskei tell him? And even if she did, why?

It just didn't add up that someone like Raskei would begin to explain to someone who was not unspoken, about chambers and thoughts that resounded like voices.

"Raskei confirms you're Unspoken," he started blankly, gathering back my attention and my heart beat wildly from within me.

What else had Raskei said?

"You even making it to the chamber confirms it, but-" he trailed off and my eyes watched his every move, his eyes seemed to read mine, "it seems what your dilect is capable of has still not been identified."

I knew he was saying something, something about having a dilect. Raskei had said it too back in the chamber, and I knew what I had gone through made me different from what I thought I was, but for now, in this moment I tried to keep my face stoic, and my panick calm.

"I have reason to believe you can't even identify it yourself," he started.

My eyes flashed to him, eyebrows furrowing at what he said although deep within me, my heart felt hollow.  His gaze held
mine as if challenging me to deny it.

What made him believe that? And why did he say it so softly? He hardly seemed mad anymore.

"Because if you did know what your dilect was," he began,
"I would have seen it when your life was threatened," his jaw ticked at this, and my chest felt hollow, "twice now," he added.

I held his gaze.

"Granted you have a knack for finding yourself in ... bad situations," he trailed off, "but every convert and or deceptions first line of defense would be activating their dilect. It's a basic instinct," he grunted, eyes searching mine and I tried to hold his gaze bravely.

"If I didn't know any better, I would say you're human."

I stared down at the floor, my gaze shifting over it, fist tightening.

My breathing hitched when the sounds of his footsteps suddenly resounded coming into view and when I looked up he was a mere foot away-

"I'm only going to ask this once, Talanda," his tone was heavy and like the first time he had ever spoken to me, I could feel the seriousness and the authority in his tone as he searched mine, "Do you know what your dilect is?"

I stared into his eyes for a few seconds, his face stoic, but those prison eyes let me know he was dead serious about the question.

I swallowed, blinking out of our stare down, looking everywhere but on him, knowing there was no way I was getting out of this without being truly honest.

Who knows what Raskei could have told him?

Granted the scenes that had been shown in the chamber courtesy of my mind didn't review the full truth about what I was, but it revealed quite enough.

How long would I have to keep pretending? Especially in situations like this.

My eyes trailed up to him, shaking my head slowly, and my breathing sounding distant even to me.

He searched my eyes once more as if confirming the truth,  before shaking his head,

"What am I to do with you?" he muttered," when you don't have the slightest idea what you can do?" he huffed.

His eyes trailed off me, his shoulders relaxing,

"Why didn't I trade you when I had the chance?-" he grunted lowly to himself.

I could feel my eyes sting at the remark. Sure, I know I'm not Daya. But I didn't ask him to choose me. It was not like I wanted to be on this stupid team too!

I quite well recalled choosing Hydra, when a BULLY made me choose Leviathan.

I fought the sting of tears as I stared at the ground. I just wanted to go snuggle in my bed and forget this whole day. My fingers clenched around my bag strap.

"But you're too precious to me, I'd be foolish to trade," he suddenly grunted, yet so casually as if it was nothing at all.

My eyes snapped at this, only going even wider when he stepped closer.

"Because if you're here, on Kingsland, then your dilect was somehow suppressed, and that means you're a wild card. No one just suppresses power, if it isn't a threat," he grunted before nodding to himself, a grin spread on his face which surprised me as he nodded,

"Yes-" he said studying me for a moment, his smile widening as he walked past me slightly,

"I quite like the game we're playing Darkness, I don't believe I'll be quitting anytime soon," he finished turning back to me, "I'll be returning this," he said handing me my new pink notebook.

I got it back in confusion, before frantically turning around to check why on earth he was handing it over to me when I recall packing it inside my bag quite safely- I looked at my half-unzipped bag, turning to him accusing.

"You were standing there for an hour," he defended with a slight sigh, hands in his pocket. "I was bored waiting and I was curious-" he plainly stated.

I couldn't understand him, not even for one second.

How could he be so scared one moment and then act like a child?

Well, two could play that game.

I could act like a toddler when I wanted to, looking back at him in bewilderment, jotting down a phrase in my book, not bothering even when my mind reminded me I was wasting paper for him when I printed my question in huge block letters across the page,

'CURIOUS ABOUT WHAT?'

He didn't seem ruffled about the sentence carelessly shrugging as he paced around me.

"I wanted to see if anything had changed since the last time, I recall earning a few points. I was curious to see what I had collected," he casually stated before sighing as he folded his arms, a short scowl appearing on his face.

"Of course, unfortunately, you have not graced those pages with all the things I had done for you yet, but-" he trailed off turning, standing right by my side, tilting his head, a smirk taking over, "I am pleased to say I did not find any new distaste about me, so- progress .." he finished, nodding to himself like he had done a good job at something.

I didn't know what was happening, or what to say stuck in a moment of both surprised confusion, and little raindrops of anger.

Shaking my head, I decided I was just going to leave. I had no understanding of what was taking place right now.

I could not- for the life of me understand this new attitude of his.

And so, I turned quickly, making my way towards the door. I could feel his eyes on me for a moment as I pushed out of the training room, feeling a wave of relief when I was finally out of his line of sight.

Unfortunately, I had not taken a bare dozen steps till I felt his presence slightly behind me and yet close to my side that I could still see him and feel the amusement in his eyes as he walked beside me, eyes on me.

I didn't know what was happening but it seemed to me he was way out of that horrid little mood he had been in during training when he seemed to be punishing everyone.

Something must have calmed him down during the last hour.

Whatever it was, it should be brought along beside him wherever he went if it made him even a feather lighter and warmer to the rest of us.

Even though the term 'warm' was used quite loosely, even now.

"I figured it out," he casually began, and my heart began to beat louder than ever before.

I glanced at him momentarily before shifting back around the empty hallways.

Good lord, where was everyone?

"Ask me what-" he playfully continued.

I felt uncertain, my brain warning me it wasn't ideal to want the answer to that.

What would I do if the very first person to figure out who I was, was Harvest?

Nothing about that mental picture made me feel safe, and I tried to speed my pace up spotting the entrance to the cube.

I frowned lowly when I was met with the glowing sunset, almost hiding out beneath the waves, the shadows of Kingsland growing around us-

"I told you, you were out for an hour- give or take," Harvest grunted coming to a standstill beside me, as I looked down at evening Kingsland.

I glanced down at my watch-Supper would be a few minutes- I breathed out lowly with a sigh.

Everyone else was probably by the scepters or the King's Courts.

"I figured out why you.. hate me, no- strongly dislike me," Harvest stated plainly into the wind, before looking down at me capturing my eyes with his Atlantic orbs.

Could he?

Could he have finally realized I didn't like him because of his mind games, controlling my body, scaring me, and his hard demeanor?

"It's because I said you can't write poetry," he grunted.

I blinked at this looking at him blankly. It was not what I had hoped but, Oh yes, I forgot to add that to the list.

THAT TOO. He had no right.

My jaw hardened, looking away from him and I began my steady stomp toward the King's courts where hopefully someone was lounging.

"In my defense!" he called out to me, but I kept walking steadily, eyes on my one goal, "You weren't particularly nice to me either!"

I scoffed at this, I had been nothing but nice.

Why did he think I almost let myself get drowned by a siren? Because I was trying to be nice and let him know I wasn't a threat.

The nasty poems about him only came after a whole lot of trauma.

I felt him slip in beside me as we walked, his eyes on me.  It bothered me he could catch up to me so easily.

Heavens, I was a slow walker.

He didn't say anything for a few minutes as we walked until he did- breaking my peace.

"Can I be honest?" he echoed, and I glanced at him weirdly. I was very unsure right now.

"They're not bad, just....limited-" he grunted.

He almost had me. I found myself scoffing at the nerve of it all.

"Poems don't always have to rhyme," he explained and I glanced at him, his eyes trailing to the outline of the King's Courts as they came into view.

"You keep putting it in a singular pattern, poems are diverse and intricate."

I gritted my teeth at his critique.

I sure as rain did not remember asking him to get my notebook, and read through all my private poems, and I never once claimed to be the greatest poet in the world.

I was very much relieved when I spotted the uniforms walking around just past the King's courts,  turning to block him from going further, standing in his way quite bravely.

He paused, looking down at me for a second then at the student some paces away-

"You don't want them to see us together?" he huffed, seemingly irritated by this, but honestly I didn't want anyone to see me with any original.

I simply did not need any more rumors, especially about him.

"Fine," he grunted, "one condition," he added.

I looked back at him, "Tell me what's running through your mind," he requested, "I want to know."

The request took me aback.

My thoughts? He wanted to know what I saying when I couldn't say it- that was what was first to come to my mind.

And how was I supposed to do that? What sort of request was that?

I scoffed at this shaking my head, whipping around to walk away, when I heard his footsteps crunch the dry leaves behind me,

"Then I guess I'll just follow you around like a puppy. That will be quite interesting. Let's see what the Gossip Vine will have to say about that-"

I stopped in my tracks at that, my fist clenching.

He wanted to know what was going on in my mind- w-well sure thing.

I-I could do that!

I turned around to face him, clicking my pen open,

He raised an eyebrow at this action.

I glanced at him before jotting down all my thoughts.

My poetry. Who was he to judge me? My lines were 'limited' He had said. He didn't even write poetry so he was in no right to criticize my art-

I had never been this angry at someone. Never been this scared or this brave either.

I ripped the page, with a shaky hand, handing it over to him, breathing harshly as he took it, studying my face for a moment, the light in his eyes dimming, as he slowly looked down before reading.

When his gaze finished sifting through my work, he looked right at me, something foreign passing through his eyes.

His jaw clenched as he crumbled the paper tightly, before placing it in his pocket, eyes trailing off me for a moment, and when he looked back at me a shiver traversed my spine at the cold look in his eyes.

"And I'm the mean one."

I swallowed for  a moment, looking at the ground, kind of embarrassed for having written that out of anger- this wasn't who I was- I never changed emotions too quickly, nevertheless speaking out of anger-

I folded my arms, pursing my lips- maybe I had been a little bit too mad-

Was I really mean? I couldn't even look at him. It was such bad a feeling. God this was so embarrassing.

"And they asked me,...Do you love her to death?" he stated, calmly, the gentle evening breeze passing between us.

My eyebrows arched and I slowly  looked into his eyes, with slight confusion as he talked,

"And I said, 'Speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life," he breathed out lowly, his eyes holding prison mine, "Mahmoud Darwish," he cited, moving towards me as he talked.

"For if the devil himself was ever to see her," he continued standing right before me, his breathing low, eyes searching mine, "he would kiss her eyes and repent," I could feel my heart heat loudly within me as I stared into his eyes, "Furouq Jwaydeh," he finished.

The breeze floated in the small space between us.

He suddenly looked away.

"I admit I know nothing about writing poetry, but I speak its language quite well," he ended, his tone low, eyes shifting back to me, causing me to shiver slightly- he nodded taking a step back, eyes still on me,

"We still have a game to play, darkness," a small smirk played against his lips, " and forgive my cockiness, but I think I'm winning."

With that, he turned- walking away.

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I am..speechless. What did you think of this small interaction? I do think Harvest did a bit of gaslighting over there 😂

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Harvest 😩

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