Closed As She Rises (Auva)

[Airell]

. 17th of Summer, 513 AV Silence came suddenly, and Airell nearly sighed with relief. The narrow street he had been walking along opened into the docks – the fabled docks of Zeltiva; he could not afford to forget that – where he stood. So he had made it – it had taken him the better half of the night, it seemed, and he had likely ended up taking the worst route there was, but suddenly, all that seemed oddly unimportant. Just a few moments in the past, the man – he still thought of himself that way; yet another oddity, but there was nothing to be done about that – had been sure he would lose whatever sanity he retained if he had to listen to the sound of his footsteps for much longer, and that was not too far from the truth. Airell had found himself plodding along a street – Gods burn his heart right here and now if it deserved the name! – barely wide enough for two men abreast, and though he’d tried to step as lightly as ever, his footfalls bounced off the stone on either side of the Nuit again and again, rolling up those towering walls, and by the time they reached that small patch of soon-to-be-morning sky – that narrow strip of deep blue and flat grey and receding black all mixed together – they were more booms than thuds. Thuds wouldn’t have been so bad. Thuds built rhythm, and in that rhythm was meditation – a kind of meditation unlike any other – but those booms were a different thing entirely. Those booms, and those tall walls, and that narrow street, and that darkness, it was all too much like— like Sahova —like some prison, some dark place he had no desire to remember. It was a lucky thing that he had forgotten most of it. But all that was in the past. That street – that street like a prison – was behind him, and before him the world opened up again – it was a grand view, with a sea of water below and a see of fading stars above, and the sprawling docks in the middle. The docks! At this time of night, they were but shadows of buildings and shadows of ships with the only the occasional sprinkling of light here and there, but all the same they were bustling with people – some standing about here, others moving cargo there, and still others waiting to embark on the distant piers. An echo of what must happen during the day, Airell supposed, but for this early an hour, it was still impressive. And had he really thought the place was silent? It must have been a trick of his dead ears of some sort, surely; the harbour was filled with sound – there were bells ringing, and there were people talking and people shouting, and though it did not end there, Airell stopped listening. He would not hear his footsteps in this cacophony. Airell wanted to sigh with relief again, but stopped himself just in time – the Nuit had learnt to wear a mask, but emotion still slipped through now and then. That was worrying, but not too much so – not as long as he dragged them back in – and yet he preferred indifference. It was a cold, serene state of mind; an equilibrium perfect for deep thought. But either way, the man did feel relief. He had indeed made it, and he had made it in time – though the sun had been clawing at the sky for a while now, with lighter patches of blue melting into shades of red and shades of yellow, it was hidden still. And Airell would be there to see it rise, because, as he had noted to himself not that long ago, sights like that were what he still clung to this world for. Airell headed off toward the piers, and, for a moment, his face betrayed an inward smile. He was quick to tuck it back in. .