#*bites 5.3 by the scruff and shakes it* WE'RE GETTING THROUGH THIS. I'M NOT STOPPING TIL WE DO

[lambs-rest]

Hope's Confluence IV - Reunion

Track: Pure Imagination - Fiona Apple (YT)

——————–

Mist cloaked the platform heavily.

It chilled her lungs with each deep, ragged breath. Despite the stinging pain Granye gasped for air, her whole body heaving. Everything felt like it was on fire. Her body screamed, muscles pulled to their limits. The trail of semi-dried blood that tracked down the right side of her face from her brow was joined by a new trickle more directly above her eye. She squinted before shutting her eye entirely against the encroaching liquid as it carved a warm path to her eyelid.

Granye instinctively raised the back of her right hand to wipe the blood away, but her arm stilled as she laid eyes on her hand.

Her heart sank.

The sword she had been given was nothing more than a cracked handle and fragmented guard, clutched in her hand. The blade was gone, splintered into nothing.

A bittersweet smile settled on her face as she held it before her. It looked like she was too reckless with Emet-Selch’s loaned power. She could almost hear his voice scolding her for going overboard, exactly what he had told her not to do.

Granye looked across the platform, peering through the fading mist to find any trace of Elidibus.

Her mouth pressed into a thin line, brows furrowing sadly as she found his figure, dropped to his knees and panting in a similar fashion to her. The shield on his arm was fractured and broken, and his blade was similarly in ruin.

The fight was over.

She should have felt a huge wave of relief, of victory and triumph. But her heart only felt heavy.

The fight was over, but her work was not.

Granye looked down as the remnants of the sword in her hand made a noise, like ice thawing. A huge crack snapped down what was left of it, more cracks spider-webbing out from the main fault, before the entire construct fell apart in her hand, leaving nothing but a pile of purple shimmering dust in her palm.

She raised her arm and held out her hand, allowing the sands to trickle from her palm and be swept away on the breeze.

It would have been a nice keepsake, she thought, but in her heart she knew that Emet’s gift had been temporary. Granye turned her gaze back to Elidibus, and her empty hand fell to the pouch at her hip.

She had enough priceless keepsakes as it was.

Each step made her legs want to buckle. Her head was still ringing with the sound of the powers of Light and Darkness clashing. It was definitely her most intense duel to date, she’d give Elidibus that much. But really, matching his power until they reached a stalemate? Granye’s mouth twitched with a grimace as pain shot up her arm.

‘He’s in for a proper earbashing if I ever see him again.’

As she neared the defeated Emissary she noticed how his damage went beyond merely the loss of his weaponry. His once proudly flowing cape was tattered and ripped. Gleaming armour was cracked and robbed of its lustre where her blows had landed. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, teeth gritted, silently seething.

“Elidibus.”

Her voice made him lift his head and he directed that hateful glare at her.

“Fool. You have achieved nothing. I am immortal, and I will never surrender!”

“I thought ye used to always say ye were too old to be treated like a child. Yet here ye are, actin’ like one.”

His hate muddled with confusion and the same twisted feeling that had chased him out of Emet-Selch’s Amaurot. A tired smile made its way onto her face and her gaze grew unfocused, seemingly staring right through him.

“Ye used to always protest when ye were slipped a toffee… But I dinnae think ye ever turned one down.”

His eyes widened slowly. A feeling pressed at his mind – a scene of their black-robed bodies all leaving the room, filing out in pairs or alone. A gentle hand on his arm, gesturing for him to come to the side for a moment. A small, neatly wrapped lolly stealthily pressed into his palm–

He squeezed his eyes shut and violently shook his head.

Lies. False memories! He had no need of such things!

“Elidibus.”

She said his name again and he wanted to shout at her to stop. But when he looked at her once more, she was holding out a small pouch.

“I think ye need these more’n I do.”

Something drew him to the little bag, whether it was the promise of the shiny, mysterious, colourful baubles he could glimpse from his height…or something else entirely. Delicately he reached two fingers out, pinching at the contents of the bag. He pulled out a small bright green stone. Elidibus carefully put it in his other palm, gingerly turning it with his fingertip, until he flipped it onto its other face and a pattern of dots and lines revealed itself. He stared, frozen for some seconds, before his eyes flickered to the bag. Granye didn’t move as he reached into it again, this time pulling out a peach-coloured one. He repeated the process again and again…

Until she no longer found herself looking up at his face, but down.

Granye walked forward a few more steps and knelt, keeping the bag within reach of his shortened little arms, as Light and borrowed power left him with a shower of dissipating sparkles. It left him a small figure of a boy in a plain white hooded robe, with a red mask covering the top of his face. It was not a pointed or sculpted mask, but a simple unadorned one, with soft curves and round eyes of darkness – the same kind she had seen on all the Ancients in Amaurot’s reconstruction.

His child-like hands reached in, over and over, until he had emptied the bag, and his arms were brimming with the colourful crystals. He hugged them to his chest gently, as though hugging individuals.

“My people. My brothers and sisters. …My friends.” Elidibus lifted his gaze to her, voice no longer ringing with anger and power, but with confusion and pain. “Why? Why do you have these?” he begged.

Granye reached into her pocket and held out her hand, two more stones sitting within.

“This one’s yers.” she said softly, picking up the grey one and holding it out for him to take. He reached out for it, wrapping his fingers around it, then stared at the colourless gem in silence, his entire little body trembling.

“…An’ this is mine.”

He looked up as her fingers curled gently around the gold one. The amber of death.

He inhaled slowly, deeply, with a trembling gasp. Holding his stone to his palm with his last three fingers, he reached for the golden-hued stone with his index finger and gently brushed his fingertip over its surface, tracing the circular carving on its face.

Elidibus inhaled sharply.

Azem. The Shepherd. The Muse. Welcoming eyes, the colour of fresh grass. Auburn hair of a colour that always reminded him of the lollies she would give to him as reward for enduring a meeting. A smile like the sun that was her constellation.

Granye watched his hand still over constellation. “There’s a lot I dinnae ken – dinnae remember.” she said softly. “I’s all just feelin’s, sometimes a flash of a memory. Isnae like I can remember her name, or what exactly she did.” Her face crinkled in discomfort. “It always felt wrong, but it was worse after Ardie joined me. An’ when ye told me Emmie knew me-! He never said a bloody thing! I didnae understand! I still dinnae!” she blurted, pressing her free palm to her eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the tears she could feel stinging her eyes. “An’ then ye came along, wearin’ Ardie’s face an’ callin’ me death… I just wanted to die. I couldnae do it again.”

Elidibus bowed his head, hugging the stones. He truly had forgotten. How? How could he have let slip all those precious memories?!

“Of all the times for this to happen… Why now, like this? Their wish – it’s gone, and I-” he choked on his own tears. “Without Emet-Selch-! His wish was the last true hope! I was holding onto it so dearly, and now that he is gone… I’m too weak for this alone!”

Granye lowered her hand. So many little tears ran down his red-masked face, spilling over and falling onto the stones in his shaking arms. She could feel that all her efforts to stem her tears were undone the instant she saw him in such a state. She reached out and gathered Elidibus, gems and all, in her arms, pulling him against her.

“Yer nae alone, sweetcream.” she whispered. “Ye still have ‘brea, aye? An’ I’m nae goin’ anywhere.”

“You barely remember anything!” he protested, the sob muffled by her coat, though he made no attempt to wriggle free of her embrace.

“I remembered we were never s’posed to be fightin’. I remember how much we all loved ye. I might nae remember the little things, but I do remember the feelin’s – how much I’d‘ve given up fer ye. How hard I’d’ve fought to keep ye safe.”

“Then where were you?” he begged, voice raising an octave. “Everyone was so scared, and you weren’t there!”

Granye pressed the left side of her cheek to the top of his hooded head gently. “I dinnae ken, love. I wish I did, but i’s all just smoke. I’m sorry.”

If anything the answered seemed only to upset him more.

“’lidibus, ye can be angry. Ye can cry. Yer more than just a primal, love. Yer pain is yer own, an’ yer allowed to feel it, all right?” Her voice was shaking. “Tha’s all I wanted for ye – to remember who you were. Who ye are.”

“But, my duty-!” he sobbed.

“I’s done, love! Ye did everythin’ ye could’ve possibly done fer yer duty. I promise. I’s all right to take a step back now. Yer nae the Warrior o’ Light, an’ yer nae Zodiark. Yer Elidibus ��� our Elidibus.”

“I don’t understand…” he sniffled leaning back to look up at her. “Why do you go so far? You… You aren’t Azem, no matter what you remember. Why are you so determined?”

She looked down at him with a thoughtful look. “I think…that maybe Azem’s memories just make my feelin’s stronger. D’ye forget the first time I met ye already?” she added teasingly with a smile.

“No… No, I don’t believe I could.” he said slowly.

He still remembered how she’d insisted on having a meal the next time they had to meet. And how he had been made a bearer of puns when she had asked him sweetly to pass a message on to the convalescing Lahabrea.

The next time they had met was on an active battlefield, and he’d been wearing the Garlean princeling’s body. He’d tried to kill her.

“…We never did try things your way.” he admitted quietly.

Granye mustered a tired chuckle and gently pinched his chin. “An’ tha’s why I wasnae goin’ to let ye win here.” Her smile faded. “Stay with us, Elidibus – ‘brea an’ me – fer as long as ye can. Since I cannae remember the old memories, let’s build some new ones.”

She could feel the bewildered, pleading stare from behind his mask.

“After all of this, after everything I did – everything I said! I tried to kill you. More than once!” he warbled.

She found herself smiling, a faint chuckle in her throat as she gently pulled him in for another hug. “Aye, so’s Lahabrea. You’ll be in good company.”

“You… I won’t ever understand you.” he mumbled. It sounded suspiciously like he was pouting.

“Tha’s fine. Ye just have to understand one thing: I’d’ve fought through all seven hells an’ back to get through to you.”

-~-~-~-~-~-

After the calamitous final tremor that ripped through the Crystal Tower, Lahabrea had promptly risen to his feet in the Golden Sacristy and made the – possibly unwise – decision to ascend the tower and see the results of the duel between Light and Dark for himself.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

In reality, Lahabrea had remained rooted in place, gripped by fear, for so long that even the struggling Crystal Exarch had been able to catch up to him. His presence had snapped Lahabrea from his torpor and together they had climbed the tower. The Scions were still nowhere in sight.

When they reached the top and emerged from the Final Curtain, Lahabrea could not have been more glad of the fact.

He had expected to find death, either in the form of a broken corpse or an altogether absent Emissary.

Instead his eyes landed upon the sight of a small child in white cradled in Granye’s arms, their face buried against her. When he saw the crystals spilling between them, tumbling to the floor and caught on clothes, he understood.

Lahabrea breathed such a sigh of relief, G’raha Tia thought he might be the one about to collapse.

“Go.” He urged, leaning heavily on his staff and dragging his crystallised arm off Lahabrea’s shoulder with a wince. Lahabrea looked at him for a moment, scared, almost, at the concession. G’raha stared, then stiffly nudged his head toward the two. He watched as Lahabrea began to walk, then ran across the walkway, only slowing once he was closer.

Lahabrea felt a lump in his throat as he approached, but it wasn’t out of fear this time. He was relieved – elated.

By some miracle she had gotten through to him. Elidibus. Their Elidibus. Their shining, brilliant little star.

Had he not held Elidibus’ memory crystal when Granye asked him to pick it out from the bunch, he may well have forgotten himself how the Emissary once was, before the Final Days and the Sundering. Before he had become Zodiark’s heart.

They both turned at Lahabrea’s slow, cautious approach, as though they knew he was there even though he made no announcement. Elidibus bowed his head at the scattered crystals and Granye picked them up for him, the need unspoken. She freed him from the last of the bunch and carefully put them back in the pouch, and Elidibus slowly stood up, frozen in place for a moment before he glanced at Granye. She nodded once in reassurance.

Since when did Elidibus take cues from someone else?

Elidibus took several steps toward Lahabrea before he stopped a respectable distance away and bowed his head.

“I… Lahabrea, can you ever forgive me?”

“For what, Elidibus?” Lahabrea prompted quietly, the syllables rolling gently in the voice of the Ancients.

“For raising my sword at you. For accusing you. …For abandoning the wish of our brethren.”

Lahabrea, for all his rough edges and meanness, could only feel a long-absent warmth for the Emissary. “There is nothing to forgive, Elidibus. I abandoned that wish first, did I not?”

Elidibus could have wept again, but struggled to keep himself composed. There was more he had to say. “I cannot change what I am – what will inevitably happen to me. Even so…would you still make your earlier request of me, despite my transgressions?” He inhaled sharply, desperate to squeeze in the rest of his request before Lahabrea answered.

It reminded him so much of when Elidibus had first taken to the role and was still adjusting to his place in the Convocation.

“I know this is an unfair burden to place upon you, but I am left with no other choice. You…”Elidibus’ voice cracked. “Lahabrea, you are all that’s left. My sustenance is by your will alone, now.”

Lahabrea felt his heart twist. Him? What good was he, he wanted to ask, with his pathetic frailty and stunted aether? He could not offer Elidibus the gargantuan supply of crystals he required to remain. He knew better than anyone that a primal subsisted off aether and faith. He could only truly supply the latter.

Did it really matter?

After everything they had lost – world, brethren, and even the memories of such – did it really matter if it wasn’t perfect? Especially when he could no longer strive for perfection.

“…Of course, Elidibus. I only regret that I cannot give you what you are truly owed.”

The little robed Emissary looked up, seemingly confused by his words for a moment before he released the phantom breath he’d been holding. “Thank you, Lahabrea.”

Elidibus’ fingertips subtly tugged nervously at his robe and he bowed his head once more. “Granye…has already made the offer, but I must ask – would you mind if I stayed with you until…until I no longer can?”

When a hand landed on his shoulder, Elidibus looked up into Lahabrea’s face. He never thought he’d see the Speaker look so drained. It was the sudden pull forward – the arms that ensnared him – that really startled Elidibus. To be held and comforted by Granye was one thing, but to be wrapped in Lahabrea’s arms was another entirely. Had he…ever shown such care? Elidibus could not remember…but maybe that was alright, if he was allowed to remember this moment.

“Had she not offered, I would have insisted.” Lahabrea said firmly.

Elidibus felt an enormous weight lift from his shoulders. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to soak in the moment. His duty was over. Now he had only one task left to him. One wish to fulfil.

Granye watched, silent, sitting on the floor. Her kneeling position had sunk to the point where her legs were awkwardly bent on either side of her and the only thing hold her upright was the fact that her left palm was pressed to the floor. Her body wanted to fall apart. Everything hurt, and blood was still constantly threatening to get in her eye.

But as she drank in the sight of the two Ascians reuniting, her heart felt lighter than it had in a long time.

It was worth it. Every single scar and bruise, every drop of blood, sweat and tears she had shed in this awful bloody struggle had been worth it. She could say that with her head high. She could face anything – any disputes or doubts that might come from what course she’d taken.

Granye gingerly picked up the pouch of crystals in her left hand and put the crystal of Azem back where she’d put it when Hythlodaeus had first given it to her. There would be plenty of time to discuss that matter, once they left the Tower and she had slept for a solid twenty-four hours. She couldn’t help grunting as she pushed herself to her feet, every move drawing a hiss of pain until she was upright and limping forwards.

Lahabrea lifted his head at the sounds she made, releasing Elidibus from his impromptu hug, which allowed them both to watch her struggle.

“I expect you’ll be black and blue by the end of the night.”

She mustered a grin. “Aye. Reckon you’ll have some bruises to match, too, fer once.”

Lahabrea grimaced, then glanced back at the golden archway that let to the interior of the tower. G’raha Tia was standing there, still glowing blue – though not nearly as much now that the Tower was no longer being used – and still leaning heavily on his staff. “I’m sure between you, me and the Exarch we’ll have all the shades of blue covered.”

Granye followed his gaze. “Oh hells, robin!” she blurted, her voice carrying. “Yer almost a bloody statue!”

G’raha offered a pained grin and attempted to shrug, but only ended up grimacing. Granye hobbled forward, passing the other two for a step, before she paused and turned back.

“I almost forgot – sweetcream, ye hold onto these fer now, aye?” She held out the pouch of crystals.

Elidibus slowly reached out with both hands and accepted it, cradling the bag to his chest. “Are you certain?”

“Aye. ‘brea’s got his already. It’s between the two o’ ye to decide what happens to the rest. Isnae my place to decide that.” She looked squarely at Lahabrea next. “I reckon the Scions will find us ‘fore we crawl down the bloody tower.”

His expression fell into his usual hardened frown. Her implications were all too clear. “Of course. You needn’t concern yourself about any of that.”

She took her time before she nodded, then turned back to G‘raha and limped toward him. They could hear her faint worried chatter from where they stood.

“The Scions of the Seventh Dawn will not be pleased with this.” Elidibus said quietly.

Lahabrea’s scowl deepened, though not in anger. “They hardly have a say in the matter. Not when she makes up her mind like this. Let us go, Elidibus.” He sighed suddenly as they walked to catch up to Granye and G’raha. “I am not looking forward to all those steps.”

Elidibus looked up at him curiously. “You truly cannot use your magicks?”

“Not even a little.” he responded sourly before the corner of his mouth quirked up. “In truth, I can hardly wait to tell you all the ridiculous nonsense I’ve endured.”

Elidibus arched one of his brows. “…Does it involve more of her puns?”

Lahabrea’s expression withered. “So many more.”

-~-~-~-~-~-

Progress was agonisingly slow. Granye and G’raha were both leaning on each other as they made their way down. The two of them limping together barely made a fully functioning person. Lahabrea assisted when required, but more then anything he followed the unspoken directive Granye had given him: stay with Elidibus.

The Emissary himself was relatively quiet, only exchanging words soft-spoken in the Ancient language with Lahabrea here and there. He had not apologised to anyone but Lahabrea for his actions, and really, neither Granye – who had been so battered by him – nor G’raha – whose body had crystallised almost beyond the point of movement – were expecting such a thing. His conviction as the Ascian’s primal wasn’t something he could, or would, take back.

He had, however, promptly returned G’raha Tia’s spirit vessel back to him the moment the two had made contact, and the miqo’te had reconciled himself to the fact that that was as much as he would be getting in terms of reparations.

It was when they finally reached the Ring of the Protector on the Tower’s Second Central Ring that the sounds of hurried footsteps finally reached the four of them.

Granye and G’raha both gave little sounds of relief when they saw the Scions racing up the stairs across the platform. Lahabrea noticed at once that Elidibus’ first instinct was to shy behind him, still tightly clutching the bag of memory crystals in both hands. He put his hand on Elidibus’ shoulder in silent reassurance. It seemed to work, because Elidibus straightened his back and lifted his head high, though his grip on the bag did not ease as he took a step forward to stand next to Lahabrea.

“Granye!” “Exarch!”

The twins both called out, continuing to sprint forward to meet the two, even as the others slowed at the sight of Lahabrea and the small white-robed figure at his side.

Granye and G’raha both flashed half-dead smiles as the twins descended upon them, Alisaie immediately trying to assist Granye in carrying the Exarch on his other side, and Alphinaud beckoning her to lean down so he could check her bloody head wound.

“I’m fine, Alphie, just a wee bit bruised.”

He scoffed and stared at her like she’d grown a second head, struggling to summon words that could properly describe just how beaten she looked.

“Granye.”

“Aye?” She forced a smile and looked up at the crowd, eyes landing on Y’shtola as her stern voice rang clearly through the tower.

“Sit. Down.”

Granye’s shoulders slumped her bravado shrivelling under the warning. “Dinnae ye think G’raha needs more help than I do?”

Y’shtola suddenly drew her staff and the whole gathering fell quiet.

“Thancred, it seems I will require your muscle. Ready yourself.”

Thancred fumbled for a moment before he cottoned on to her plan and braced himself to charge Granye.

“Wh- Wait, wait! Hold on! What d’ye mean!?” she squawked.

“If you do not sit down, I will be forced to bring you down.” Y’shtola said sternly. “Whether by physical force or by sleeping spell, it matters not.”

Granye took a step back and held out her hands, shaking her head. “Nononono-! Just wait a moment! Hold on!”

Elidibus almost asked Lahabrea if this apparent reluctance to be healed was normal for Hydaelyn’s Champion, but when he looked up to the Speaker, all he saw was a determined glare. “One moment, Elidibus.” he said quietly, sharply, before he walked forward.

Elidibus stared, almost slack-jawed as the man came up behind her, snatched the magical tome out of the Leveilleur boy’s hand, snapped it shut, then reached up and whapped her on the back of the head with it.

Granye howled and doubled over, dropping to her knees dramatically and holding the back of her head with her hands. She half-turned where she knelt and looked back at him. “What was ‘at for!?” she warbled, meeting his frown and pursed lips with wide teary eyes.

Lahabrea handed the book back to a stunned Alphinaud with a brief thank you before he turned his wrath upon Granye.

“Must you always waste time spurning the efforts of others!? There are more than enough capable healers to work on the both of you, so stop protesting and sit still! We both know you’ll take well over a week to recover from this sort of trial, so the sooner your recovery starts, the better.”

Granye stuck her bottom lip out. “Ye dinnae have to hit me.” she mumbled.

Lahabrea leaned over her with a mocking smile. “Really? Because between getting sent to sleep or bodily tackled by Waters I think you would prefer to be alert and able-bodied right now.” he said tersely.

She looked away from him. He was right. She’d been so overcome with relief that for a moment she had completely forgotten that right now, Elidibus and Lahabrea would be vulnerable to the Scions’ interrogations, and she was their only protection.

“…Fine. Ye’ve a point.”

Lahabrea’s smile turned almost pleasant and he leaned back, folding his arms. “Thank you for coming to your senses. And don’t pretend you’re not an absolute mess right now. I haven’t seen you this mangled since you fought Thordan and his Knights.”

She made a face. “That bad?”

“Yes.”

Granye sighed and slid onto her backside, surrendering with a show of holding up her hands. “I give up. Take me away, Master Matoya.”

Y’shtola sighed and put her staff away before walking briskly towards her. “While I appreciate the reinforcements, Lahabrea, please refrain from causing more injuries in the future. Urianger, could you please help the Exarch?”

The elezen was already on his way to G’raha’s side. He was getting an earful from Alisaie, both of his ears drooped back. “It wasn’t my intent to be hampered so.” “Not another word out of you, Crystal Martyr.” she scolded as she propped him up. Thancred quickly came to help relieve her of the weight while Urianger unloaded a series of questions to diagnose his condition.

Elidibus felt like he was on a tightrope, just waiting for it to snap. Nobody had addressed his presence. Was it possible that he was invisible somehow? That his survival was a lie?

Lahabrea glanced back at the little Emissary and his brows tightened. How strange to see him so uncertain…

“Do not think for a moment that we are ignorant of your presence, Elidibus.” Y’shtola said suddenly. Her words once again cast a blanket of silence over them as she turned her silver gaze in his direction, illuminated by the healing magick that flowed from her hands over Granye’s body. “We have plenty of questions, and you owe many an answer. However, assuming you are here under the auspices of Granye’s mercy, I think we can safely presume you no longer intend to impede us.”

Elidibus bowed his head. “…Indeed. I am much diminished in my current state. She has…thoroughly bested me.”

“Not to put a sour note on all this, but Elidibus is still a primal, is he not?” Thancred asked, craning his head to look back. The implication went unsaid.

“I am, though not in any notable capacity. I am, as they say, ‘on the way out’. I will fade, in time, as all primals without the appropriate supply of aether are fated to do. But until that day comes…I will fulfil the new wish I have been tasked with.”

“And what new wish is that?” Y’shtola questioned, glancing suspiciously at Lahabrea. He was staring, fixed on Elidibus as the small figure raised his head proudly.

“To live true to myself, and honour the love I was entrusted with eons ago.”

-~-~-~-~-~-

It was late in the night by the time everyone left the Crystal Tower.

Despite everyone’s varying aches and pains it had been necessary to take time to discuss what had happened and what would follow. Concerns about Elidibus had been quickly laid to rest once Y’shtola had confirmed with her aethersight that his being was in a tenuous state, at best. But, unfortunately, G’raha’s condition had turned out to be surprisingly touch-and-go, meaning they had to finalise their plans sooner rather than later.

He was now holed up in his chambers with a fretful Lyna. Theirs was a conversation long overdue, and now that his spirit vessel was safely returned and imbued with his memories, he was determined to have it. It was a mere matter of time for him now, and he made it clear that he wanted to spend that time with the nearest person he had to a daughter.

The feeling was one shared by several among them. It was dawning that they would very soon be departing the First, likely for good.

They all milled awkwardly in the Exedra, silent, each one thinking about the people they had to say goodbye to. Y’shtola was the first to depart for the Greatwood, though she sternly told Granye that she needed to rest, promptly. One by one, the other Scions filtered away, splitting up, until the only two left were Thancred and Ryne. Granye wanted to try and comfort the girl – it had been clear from the moment that they’d started talking of leaving that she was holding back tears.

“You lot should turn in.” Thancred said suddenly, not allowing Granye the chance to speak. “I’d like it if you were fully rested for the return journey, and it looks to me that you’re about to fall over.”

Granye glanced at the downcast Ryne before looking back at him over her head. “Ye sure?”

“Absolutely. Now, take your Ascians and clear off for the night, would you?”

Granye stuck her tongue out at him playfully before she leaned over and gave Ryne a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll see you both in the mornin’ then.”

Lahabrea audibly sighed. “Finally.” he tutted. “There is only so much I can discuss with Elidibus out in the open like this.” He turned to the Emissary. “Thankfully the rooms here are far more spacious than those we frequent upon the Source. She can snore to her heart’s content, and we can continue our discussion.”

Elidibus leaned back slightly before he followed Lahabrea toward the Pendants. “She snores?”

Granye huffed and jogged after them. “As if yer a perfect sleeper!”

Thancred watched the odd trio walk further and further away until they were entirely gone from sight.

He was stalling.

Sincere words had never been his strong suit, and there was still much he felt he wanted to say to Ryne. So much of their time together had been rough – patchy, at best. He’d realised that a lot of that was his fault. Now he only wished there was more time, to watch Ryne grow into herself, to teach her more than just how to fight and survive. At least she wouldn’t be completely alone. She had already made a friend in Gaia, and she did it all on her own. But still… He couldn’t help but feel like he had failed her in a sense.

“…I’ve been meaning to get some flowers. For Minfilia.” Ryne said quietly. “Tomorrow morning, would you like to help me choose them? Then…maybe we can go to Nabaath Araeng together…one last time.”

The pressure on his chest faded. It would be hard. It would hurt. They would miss each other terribly. But she would be all right.

Thancred wrapped his arm around Ryne’s shoulder and pulled her into a one-armed hug, rubbing her arm. “That sounds like a fine suggestion. There was a flower that her mother often had distilled into a perfume that she liked. Let’s see if we can find something similar.”

——————–

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