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[Caelum]

These are the thoughts that swirl through me like drops of blood in sinks of white. -- Knott. Timestamp: 46 Spring 515 AV There were heaps of her life scattered over the floor. Caelum stared at them as the candles melted slowly into themselves on the nightstand, imagining up names and purposes for every box as he smoked. It was not quite a habit, not yet, but early in the season he had picked up an addiction to Kenashian tobacco from the desires of a merchant at the Bazaar. It had taken him the better part of a fortnight to lay his hands on a sufficiently large store so that he could arrange for it to be delivered to the merchant, with his best regards, and also to keep some for himself. He held the smoke in his lungs now, savoring the settling of this borrowed desire, and considered all that had to happen before dawn. Maedelle Knox had wanted nothing so much as to leave. It had splashed off of her and all over the floor of Alements hours and hours ago while Caelum was closing up the bar for the night. Elise he had sent home to the Sanctuary early as with the infirmary empty of overnight guests she had been the one to open that morning. It left the healer alone as the final wave of customers drifted cheerfully and weary out, and Maedelle remained behind, pleasantly drunk and utterly aching as she stared at the back of an exciting ship's captain. "Do you know when they're leaving, Caelum?" She asked, a tinny note to her words as the heavy, double doors closed behind the sailor. Hazel eyes sought out the proprietor, a man she imagined like many to be her friend. "Tomorrow," he answered her shortly, but not unkind. There was a glass in his hand a clean bar towel in his other as he washed and dried the remaining cups. He stood hip-slung behind the marble topped bar, dark hair pulled back into a braided knot at the nape of his neck and his altogether mortal face caught in an expression of wry apology. "If you want to go with them, Mae, go." The human woman sighed. "It's foolish." "They're heading back toward Zeltiva," he explained. "And I know the man -- Rezaar. We go back quite some ways. You would be safe with them. Safe as anyone. He'll keep an eye out for you, if I ask it." He set the tumbler down slowly and slapped the towel to the bar. His mouth opened, but he hesitated. "But you don't think I should go," she concluded. An elbow pointed down the bar and a ruffle of mahogany hair spilled over her shoulder. She had a lovely face, made up of strong, fine bones and skin the lush, faded color of good vellum. There was something dangerous in the set of her mouth, the line of shoulders. He knew to look for it. It came from a familiarity with pain, and it sprung up in the sort of people who pain sharpened rather than splintered and healed. "It's because of Kilakyn, isn't it?" "Your son is yours, Mae. Not mine." Aware she desired no further drinks, Caelum swiped the glass out from in front of Mae and dunked it into the basin of warm, soapy water for a quick an idle scrub. "But running from a Talvis and taking your son by him with you are two different things." "You sound like them," she muttered. "You didn't used to." A shrug slid through his shoulders and the gold in his eyes deepened when he looked at her. "I'll help you. What does it matter how I sound?" "Because you have to understand," she grimaced. She stretched a hand across the bar and grasped his arm. "Kila will be fine. He loves his father more than me anyway. It's all training and --" "You're leaving him," Caelum murmured, and instead of pulling back he slid his hand over hers. Desire had hooked its talons, catching against Nikali's chains heaped inside of him with soft rattle. "I have to," Mae told him, hungry eyes intent. And miserable. Caelum swallowed a sigh, feeling it in his throat. "There's no one else who can help me, Caelum. No one else who would, or... could." "Mae --" The chain was already sliding out of his hands, turning his tongue one way while his heart beat another. The smile he gave her held forgiveness she was going to need. "It's not me you're trying to convince." Later, far deeper into the night, Caelum pulled the pipe from his teeth and pointed at the heap of Mae's life nearest to the closet. It was a traveling chest, packed to the lid with fine, rich clothing. He named, "Necessary," on a mutter. It was, or at least so in comparison to the collection of beauty supplies occupying a bag on Maedelle's dresser. That he named, "Vanity," and slumped back against the pillows of her bed.