Life was full of endless uncertainties. Arya had been alive long enough to learn this undeniable fact. It seemed as though as soon as she was able to untangle herself from one of her internalized conflicts, she found herself caught in another knotted thread; almost as if she was being held hostage by her own mind while it warred with her heart. How suddenly the what ifs could morph into what could have beens and what never will be, her choices plagued with so much self doubt. Perhaps in time she would be able to navigate these worries. That someday, everything would just make sense. She knew though that she did not have the luxury of an eternity to learn. An unfortunate truth that Weres were not blessed with that immortality that many of the other supernatural species possessed. Arya was destined to a short life, would be lucky to make it passed the age of one hundred so long as fickle fate favored her. It made it feel as though every choice she made that affected her life held so much incredible weight. And today she had found herself exhausted from the strain it had placed on her.
Matteo's sudden appearance had turned out to be a blessing in disguise. How easily he was able to gently coax those words from the girl so stricken with her thoughts. It felt like the chains that had bound her so simply fell away in the presence of the Fae, and soon she was telling the tale of the scar that adorned her flesh. In all aspects, both physically and mentally, the Wereseal was far from tough, even with her attempts to try and paint it as some sort of battlescar; unfortunately she wasn't the valiant hero in this story, rather the damsel in distress. This fact did little to dampen her lighthearted rendition of the story though. Her facial features furrow into a more tough expression to match her claims, though it falters quickly into laughter at the ridiculousness of the whole attempt. Arya is left to insist then that, while she may not be feared up and down the coast as Matteo had claimed, she was at least less boring. There was truth in that last statement, even if her companion was quick to refute it with the fact of her species being interesting. Arya was a boring, rather vanilla person in most regards. "It's funny, growing up I always wished I was something cooler than a seal, like a tiger or a wolf," those words are said with humor, even if they were true at one point. Seals were not often seen, especially by children, as cool animals. Cute? Yes. But cool? There were certainly cooler marine mammals.
It is what Matteo says next that truly shocks the young girl. How such a large ship could so suddenly sink was surprising. Yet her mind did not linger long on any thought of how or why it now resided on the ocean floor, instead she worried immediately about everyone on board the ship. She cannot help that string of questions that seem to burst from her then, her concern etched into her face with worried eyes. While they may have lost their home and their things, the thing that had the young girl most worried was if any of them lost their life. Thankfully though Matteo reassures her, with that same comforting softness, that everyone on board the Ark made it out alive and unharmed. She sighs then, having not realized that she'd been holding her breath, though she is not completely reassured. Arya cannot help but transition her worry then to the pack now being scattered with nowhere to stay, and the loss of their material possessions. "I'm glad they're alright....but they must have lost a lot of their possessions," she murmurs, still in thought about just what, if anything, she might be able to do. "I can hold my breath for 30 minutes and dive pretty deep, maybe I could help them retrieve some of their things that aren't too waterlogged?" She was thinking out loud now, perhaps seeking reassurance from her companion then if this idea would be a good enough one to ask Tetradore. Perhaps the alpha already had everything under control, and yet it couldn't possibly hurt to ask, could it?
One issue with the Ark now resting at the bottom of the ocean was just where to find Tetradore now that his stronghold and home was gone. With the massive ship gone, the pack was scattered, and that also meant Tetradore would be just as hard to track down. What the young woman did not expect in those moments was for Matteo to tell her exact times, dates, and the location to find the Wereking. And for the briefest moment, she swore she saw his eyes change colors, that the fae's stunning silver gaze was unmistakably crimson. It wasn't totally unheard of for eyes to slightly change hue depending on the clothes one wore or the lighting they were in, her own eyes tended to look more brown in darker lighting and then amber when in a brightly lit area. But for eyes to change colors drastically, coupled with Matteo's sudden specific knowledge, it made the WereSeal more curious about her companion. Had he seen the future in some way just then? That would certainly explain how the frenchman would know when and where to find Tetradore, even down to the exact minute. But did it explain the sudden shift in eye color? She supposed the power could manifest itself that way, though she was hardly an expert in just how magic could function in the supernatural, especially a mental power rather than a physical one; her own empathy did not display itself in any way, the power rather mundane in all aspects.
Her amber gaze blinks for a moment as the sound of his voice brings her from that seemingly endless trail of thoughts, and yet his words offer little explanation to the questions and suspicions that echoed in her mind. The man wasn't wearing pastels, and the lighting had not changed from moments before. How did he know that she had seen his eyes just then if it was a natural occurrence as he claimed? Was...he teasing her? That question led to her sudden realization, the realization that she was right in some aspect and he was teasing her. For all his wisdom, there was no feasible explanation why Matteo would know she had seen his eyes shift color. That comment and smile were both purposely misleading, intended to confuse her and toy with her. The Frenchman was playing a game with the young girl, and she was only now figuring out the rules. "That makes sense, I thought I was surely going crazy for a minute," she retorts with an amused smile, her words though were said in equal jest to his own. It was obvious his misdirection had not derailed her quite enough. Arya, in the very least, was a smart girl, perhaps not proficient enough in social interactions to play and maybe even win at Matteo's games, but she was smart enough to at least figure them out...this time anyway.
For now she lets these thoughts rest, allowing her mind to trail back to the dates Matteo had offered her. Arya wasn't sure she'd ever been to the Inner Sanctum, despite living in Sacrosanct for several years now, she was very much so a homebody. Most of her days were spent either at her home, at the aquarium, or down at the beach, and that was the extent of her adventuring. She thought it was on the east side of the city, yet she wasn't certain and would definitely need to look up it's directions. More importantly however she would need to put down the times her companion said, and so without hesitation she reached for her phone to do just that. What she didn't expect were several messages to pop up on her screen when she flicked it on, an unidentified number attached to the top of them. They must have been received when she was staring off into space, lost in thought, before Matteo had appeared and she simply hadn't heard her ringtone go off. To anyone else, the messages seemed harmless enough, perhaps even just simple spam to be deleted, but Arya knew who had sent them. Her stomach felt as though it had knotted, fear driving the young woman to quickly input the dates into her calendar and then shove her phone away without reading just what those messages said. She knew if she looked right at that moment, she might break down, and the last thing she wanted was to burden her friend with that.
Arya desperately tries to find some semblance of calm, forcing a smile to her lips in hopes Matteo didn't see her earlier lapse. Her hands gave her away though, she watched how his silver gaze drifted down to them and how they shook. She wanted to curse herself then, the last thing she wanted was for anyone to see her shake like a frightened child, least of all Matteo, whose opinion she realized she valued highly. She flinches slightly at her companion's sudden touch, her amber gaze falling to her hands to see he had reached out to rest one his own upon hers. Though it was not fear that caused that reaction, she knew he would not hurt her, more so surprise and...hesitation. She was entirely unused to this level of vulnerability in front of anyone else, she had always held the mindset of dealing with your own problems and not worrying or burdening others. Yet there is something so comforting about Matteo's presence and the gentleness of his words and touch. She finds the shake in her hands having lessened, perhaps only slightly but it is a noticeable difference from before. She tries to smile, though it probably appears more like a pained grimace than her normal, full of life, smile. "How silly of me." Her words are quieter still as she tries to bottle everything back up. This was years of unresolved trauma resurfacing, she'd bottled it up with a tight cork and buried it deep within her years ago, ever since she moved to Sacrosanct, and hadn't realized that there was a crack in the bottle. Now everything was threatening to leak out. If she wasn't careful, she worried it would shatter and she might drown in everything inside.
Arya's gaze watches as her companion brushes off her offer of escape for the man, before he gently lays back into the sand in a much more comfortable position. A sense of guilt washes through her as he insists that he wasn't busy today, a clear indication that he would stay, and even listen if she chose to talk, as long as she wanted or needed him there. For a moment, she looks back out over the ocean and allows silence to fall between them, contemplating his indirect offer and wondering if she had the strength to even find those words. The topic was a particular pain point for the girl, and one that she had always known was hard for others to listen to as well. Perhaps though she could try. Matteo may not know how to respond, but he certainly would not judge her, look down on her as lesser or think she was lying like she knew so many others would. So Arya lays down as well, gently resting next to her companion as she rests her hands on her stomach and her gaze absentmindedly watches the sky overhead. "I suppose I will have to entertain you with more stories then." Once more she allows that quiet to wash over them, but if he looked towards her then he would notice how her features showed that internalized struggle; a stiffness in her shoulders and both her lips and eyebrows pulled down. It felt like words were sitting on her tongue then, but something was cementing her lips closed. Maybe she couldnt do this after all, couldn't remove that cork on the bottle that held everything in.
Maybe though, if she tried an indirect approach she might be able to...start somewhere. If she could paint her words as if they didn't belong to her, she might be able to reach the issue with as little struggle as possible. "How about a hypothetical question?" Her words are hesitant this time as her amber gaze flickers over to her companion briefly once more in search of reassurance that this was ok. It was the Frenchman's last chance to deny her if he decided to, though she knew he wouldn't do such a thing. Arya still wanted to extend him that offer all the same. After she is certain it is ok, does she watch the sky once more in contemplation of just where to even begin. In those moments, it seemed almost as though she was Pandora, teetering on the edge of opening that box and releasing what lay inside.
"Let's say that there is someone you know. You've known them for as long as you can recall, so like family. Everyone you know thinks they're a wonderful person, and honestly they do a very good job of convincing everyone they can do no wrong. But you're the only one that knows that's not true. She stops for a moment, having to take a breath to stop the way her lip started to quiver ever so slightly, to keep her eyes from watering. "You know they're...not a good person. They are someone in your life that you are supposed to trust, who is supposed to take care of you and protect you but instead they... Another pause, the lump that had slowly swelled in her throat now felt like it was choking her and she worried if she blinked the tears that threatened to spill out would slip down her cheeks. "They hurt you." The statement was rather ambiguous, but she was certain Matteo would be smart enough to at least make an assumption about just what kind of pain had been inflicted upon her.
"They know how much power they hold over you. You're young and small and terrified of everything, an easy victim. They threaten you not to say a word to anyone, but both of you know nobody would believe you even if you tried because they're such a good person, surely they would never. So you just... endure for years, dreading the days they come visit."
She hadn't realized until right then that tears were streaming down her cheeks. They were silent tears, she was using all of her strength to keep herself from sobbing instead, to keep her empathy in check from reaching out and digging its claws into her companion. She does not dare look at Matteo now, does not want to see if he has seen her crying, if there was sympathy in his gaze, because she knows she would lose her strength. "Then one day you move away. You no longer have to see them, so you start thinking everything is fine, that you've finally escaped and you'll never have to see them again. And that's true...until recently." She stops once more, finding it harder to continue when she thought perhaps it would be easier. She'd never told anyone these truths, it hurt more than it felt good but perhaps it was like ripping a bandaid off. In the long run it would be better for her, she hoped anyway. "And now he's here in Sacrosanct, trying to track me down. And I am scared Matteo," her words are soft, barely above a whisper as she finally uses pronouns and inserts herself directly rather than continuing to pretend this was some hypothetical question. Arya felt so small in those moments, and she was certain if Matteo looked at her she probably looked like a frightened little girl. Yet what could he possibly say to what she had just told him? She hadn't even asked a question, it had turned into more of venting than anything else. "I suppose that wasn't really a question was it," she murmurs then, trying to grasp any humor but it is half hearted at best before falling silent once more. She'd unsealed the bottle, but only time would tell if this was a good or a bad thing.