( Liel, Graffius ) Composition 3055.

[Liel]

__________ 3rd Day of Fall, 511. Night. and huge fish swim through the sky, vague earthly vapours progress in secret, things slip to silence one by one. Sahova. Here, the air was choked with something sweet and dangerous, haze filled just enough to make her chest ache. One by one, the stars were making their sojourn into the inky black of sky, tiny hearts that fluttered above her head. In the sea-breeze, her snowy locks looked like broken spiderwebs. Perhaps she was afraid. Perhaps she wasn’t. He stood behind her, only a few steps away. If she had any cause to be afraid, it would come from him. They had not spoken much since she’d bandaged his wounds, but in silence, they grew familiar. She would often sit in his ship cabin by candlelight as he wrote. She knew to leave as soon as he stood from his desk, and he’d never objected to her being there. This strange fascination over a dark stranger who wielded magic would make her mother sick. Her lineage was pure, stripped of wizardry and all the corrupt power that came with it, and here she was, running away with something she had never thought could exist. Something. Someone. The golem had shown them the way—for now, their tired bones needed rest. It was good to be on land once more. The Quarters, though not exactly Royal Chambers, were enough for Liel. At this moment in time, she could drop off—in fact, she almost did. Her fingers gripped at the wall as her eyes strained to focus. Wake up. Her voice came as a sleepy murmur. “How many more stairs, Navad?”

[Graffius]

“A few more.” With an outstretched hand, Navad gripped the fabric of her shirt and gently tugged her along, keeping a keen eye on her as she wobbled about tiredly. Throughout their seemingly endless journey from Sunberth and the Oceans of Mizahar, the destination of the Citadel was now in their reach. Their bodies had been put to the test and the rigorous trek had worn out the Konti; she was small and fragile as many of the daughters of Mura were and in many ways, this scheduled rest was for her. His body had been sustained through sunlight and although he felt his energy wane during nightfall, he still felt thoroughly rejuvenated as his solar sustenance would carry his lithe body until dawn. She was an exception. Leaving the stairwell behind and with a firm, everlasting grip upon his companion, he sluggishly opened the entryway to their resting grounds and ushered Liel inside. “Go. Rest.” His tone was commanding as he paced, walking towards a battered mattress of packed straw and seated himself, leaning back and resting against the wall with a slack posture as he watched Liel walk to her bed. He’d stifle a yawn which attempted to escape his mouth, and then let his eyelids flutter downwards.

[Liel]

__________ For a few minutes she imagined herself in Mura, her spacious room of pretty bells and cockle shells, the trickle and sway of gentle water against her glass windows, the scent of Lararia’s cooking—and then she felt the cold, and the room came into focus. It was dark, too dark for a night in Mura. Her body fooled her—she still felt the aftermath of the sea in her limbs. She thought herself rocked by the waves until her eyes sought him out—and found him. This was not her ship cabin, because he was here. His form was resting, sitting up, eyes closed. She turned over to her side, fatigued, but slowly gaining consciousness. On the bedside table was a candle and an old fashioned match. She lit it, little shadows scurrying to the dusty corners of their room. “Navad,” she called softly, lest the light be too gentle for his wakening.