I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)

[Inkfinger]

Closed.

But I would walk 500 miles,
And I would walk 500 more,
Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles
To fall down at your door...


The city of Irrakam spread out over the island it was named for like a flock of sheep on an autumn hillside. The pure white houses and buildings gleamed against the rusty orange sands and rocks, havens of cool against the already-hot morning sun. The Jya’s Keep rose above the rest, glittering and brilliant, a promise of justice and patience and faith…

And far, far out of reach here in the slums of the Outlander’s Quarters. Cael Strandssen sighed, leading his mount through the narrow streets. The arnabiss - a massive, tawny beast with the mixed traits of a lion and, oddly enough, a hare – was probably the only reason he hadn’t been mugged yet, walking like this. He patted her side, and she let out a small purr, nosing at him as she walked, massive paws hardly even stirring the dust when they rose and fell.

“Woah there, Kina. Be a good girl, alright? We’ve almost got you home.”

His belt hung heavy over his chest, still bearing the stack of missives he’d been given at the Outlander’s Post a week prior. He still stank like travel: sweat, and dust, and scorpion blood, and his eyes still burned.

“You’ve been working for these people for a month, when are you going to cave and wear something for your eyes?” It asked from the saddle where It perched. “If you go blind, don’t complain to me. I warned you, after all.”

“Oh, hush up,” Cael growled, glaring at the paper dragon, who just looked back at him, eyeless face somehow conveying a smirk. He never got a chance to continue arguing.

“Excuse me?”

The voice behind him sounded like bells ringing through clear water – musical and sweet, trilling in a way that most women could only imitate. He’d seen that voice alone start brawls, and end them, and he still didn’t quite understand what it was that made it so powerful. He pulled Kina to a stop, leaning against her side when he turned.

The woman behind him was tall, only two or three inches shorter than Cael, and a build he’d heard called the gods’ gift to males everywhere (as well as a few less polite things.) Her name was Nuärla, and she looked – maybe – eighteen. Her face was slender, her amber eyes wide and innocent, and her hair fell nearly to her rear in golden-red curls. Her light-green, travel-stained shift barely seemed to cover her chest, and the matching leggings hugged her shapely frame like a second skin. He’d seen her full lips, her delicately arched eyebrows and perfectly pointed ears on a sculpture of one of the old Elven goddesses in a museum once.

And I have to admit, she moves me about as much as that stupid slab of marble did.

“Not you.” He tried to say it calmly, but after a week of this nonsense, the old explanation was becoming just that. Old. He flicked his inky fingertips at his familiar, who lifted a folded-paper claw to wave, rustling in silent amusement. “It.”

“Oh.” The usual answer, said with the usual pouting tone - the tone that could clear taverns and have men lying down in the street to keep her feet from touching the earth. “I wish you’d tell him-”

“It,” Cael ground out. “Not him.”

“It, whatever. I wish you’d tell it to speak a civilized language.” There was an undercurrent to the words, something of a breathy throb. It was meant to have an effect. And it did, it truly did, but somehow Cael was certain that frustration was not the effect it was meant to have. "Salvic is so...so passe."

“It’s a demon,” Cael countered for the umpteenth time, feeling It’s claws land on his bare arm. The silky white paper was actually light against his arm. The month in the brilliant Fallien sun had burnt away the sickly parchment-pale tone from his skin. Granted, it would have also burnt away his skin if Îdhdaer hadn’t noticed what was happening and forced him to use the same expensive, enchanted lotion the elf used. “I don’t tell it to do anything. If it wanted to speak Sideways Demonic or gnomic or Infernal or common, I couldn't stop it.”

That had been another of the shifts of this past month. He’d finally managed to continue his painstaking translation of his Ink Magic, and subsequently discovered his familiar, formerly thought to be simple animated paper, was actually a demon bound to an origami frame.

Fortunately, It doesn’t seem to mind, he reflected. The dragon scratched to a stop on his shoulder, snake-like form wrapped around his neck. Or else it’s not a very powerful demon at all.

“I’m telling Îdhdaer that you’re keeping secrets from me,” Nuärla continued, arms crossed beneath her breasts, leaning forward just a bit. Cael managed to keep from rolling his eyes. “Then you’ll be sorry.”

“You do that,” Cael returned, shoving the arna back into motion. Kina obeyed instantly, as eager to get out of the heat and off her feet as her rider was. Nuärla’s mount - a sleek white maneless arna that probably cost more money than Cael had seen in his entire life – followed after. “I’m sure he’ll be delighted.”

Îdhdaer Bireth was the captain of the messenger faction Cael worked for. He was also Nuärla’s older brother, and, as such, responsible for Cael’s current predicament. There was a specific reason Cael had been picked to help Nuärla learn the ropes.

“I could make you delighted…” Nuärla offered. When Cael looked back, she was leaning forward again, a sultry gleam in the amber of her eyes. It reminded him, rather, of all the old ladies he used to have to write letters for.

“Say I took you up on that,” Cael turned back around, finally leading the way out of the maze of buildings and into the open plaza that lay between the Outlander’s Quarters and the Jya’s Keep. “Say I let you make me delighted. You know what would delight me?”

“A nice bl-”

“Half a ream of good paper and a new pen. Everything I’ve got is covered in dust.

Nuärla’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click of teeth, and Cael smirked, leading the tired arna the rest of the way to the stables, whistling aimlessly as he did.

The buildings that housed the il'Jhain Abdos were exactly halfway between the Quarters and the Keep, signifying the balance the il'Jhain runners were supposed to keep between the land that hosted and housed them, and they lands they were from. It was a low-slung building, two stories, and simple. The whitewashed stucco looked drab and dull, but it was brightened by the colorful silk curtains hanging open in the windows.

"Look, I'll take care of the arna. You go tattle on me to Bireth, alright?" He reached out to take the second arna's bridle. The nobel creature snorted at him, shaking its head like an angry horse instead of the feline it was closest to.

"I think I'd better take Princess." Nuärla smirked, sashaying off towards the stables even though there was no one to appreciate her movements. Cael sighed, and followed, undoing Kina's tack as he did.

"Oi! Strandssen!" The call rang through the hot air as Cael neared the stable doors. He looked up, questioningly, to see Îdhdaer sticking his head out one of the windows. "You've got mail, sweetheart." The elf grinned, the eyes that he shared with his younger sister gleaming. "Looks like it's from your dear one. Get my mail in here or I'll let the kiddo open them for you!"

He'd never finished stabling his mount so quickly in his life.

[skyler manfield]

Skyler hated sand. At first she thought it was pretty, the myriad colors and sizes of the different sands. But it got everywhere. And of course, Hawk thought cleaning up the mess it made was a perfect exercise to help the assassin regain her strength. The girl was fairly sure she would rather have remained incapacitated than spend at least an hour out of every day sweeping the little piles of sand out of the corners of the small apartment she shared with her mentor.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad, but it was sweltering here in Fallien, and the jumbled together snugness of the Outlander’s Quarter only served to intensify the heat by stilling the air that barely moved through the inferno. She didn’t even want to imagine how impossibly hot it must be out in the desert itself. Already they’d been here for over six weeks, and it had only grown hotter. The good days were the ones when a storm would roll up the river and release a torrent of rain and howling winds over Irrakam. The heat of Fallien was in a tie with Salvar’s frigid cold for most miserable climate. She missed Corone.

But Hawk had business here, and he said the dry climate would help her lungs. Ever since Cael had accidentally poisoned her with Hemlock, nearly six months ago now, she’d had issues breathing. One second she’d be fine, the next she’d be on her knees, struggling to breathe, her throat closed off and her lungs rattling against her ribs. It had only happened twice since they’d come to Irrakam, and much less severe each time. Perhaps Hawk was right about the air here being healthy for her. Besides, Cael was supposed to be in Fallien.

They’d been in touch, just as he’d promised. A note came every couple of weeks, sometimes all too brief, quickly scribbled (which meant it was still immaculately penned compared to Skyler’s chicken scratch) on a scrap of parchment, only saying where he was and what he was doing. She’d painstakingly worked on her own handwriting, trying to make sure she responded to every letter, no matter how hard the process was. She’d learned to read, but never had much cause to write.

Three months prior, she’d sent him a letter to tell him she’d be in Fallien for the Feast of Jya. They’d arrived a little over a month later, and Skyler had waited with anticipation for Cael to make his appearance. She’d wanted to send another note over to the offices of the il’Jhain Abdos to let him know she was in town, but Hawk had told her to wait, that Cael knew when they were to arrive and would visit as soon as he was able.

But she’d heard nothing from him. The festival, which lasted for one month in honor of the High Priestess of the small desert nation, had ended weeks before. Skyler was never known for her patience, and waiting like this was akin to torture. It felt as though she were stuck in a loop. Wake up with the sun, bathe to remove the night’s sweat and dust, dress in a loose fitting tunica which was comfortable but made her feel terribly exposed, then begin cleaning. Never in her life did Skyler imagine she’d be doing housework, but somehow here she was, day after day, dusting and washing and sweeping. Hawk always showed up around midday and they ate a small lunch together, usually fresh fruit and cheese, nothing heavy. He never took her with him, never so much as responded when she begged him for an assignment that didn’t include soapy water or a broom. Stir crazy was an understatement for how she was feeling at the moment.

Today, the assassin was feeling rebellious. She absolutely refused to clean a thing. Except for the few times Hawk had taken her on a shopping trip with him, she’d never ventured out of the apartment into the Outlander’s Quarters. After Hawk left for the day, she bathed quickly, and instead of dressing in the skin baring tunica, spent the extra time wrapping a longer piece of fabric around her and pinning it at the shoulders. It still felt strange to wear a dress instead of breeches, but one wore what the local custom was. Tying her hair up off her neck, and swiping a stick of kohl beneath her eyes to help with the brightness of the sun, as one of the local women had shown her when they had first arrived, Skyler grabbed a small coin purse and pulled the door shut behind her as she left the apartment. Enough waiting.

The Outlander’s Quarter was bustling as always. She could usually hear from her window the shouting of the merchants, and the jingling of the harnesses on various pack animals as they pulled the imports and exports through the city. It was much louder when one was actually immersed in the push and shove of the foreigners who bought and traded in this area of the island. As she emerged into the street from the narrow staircase that led down from their second floor apartment, Skyler blinked in the brilliant sunlight as her eyes adjusted, the white buildings reflecting the brightness back into her face, leaving almost no shadows even this early in the morning.

She knew il’Jhain was housed to the North, between the apartment and Jya’s keep which shone like a beacon on the highest hill of the island. Skyler wasn’t sure how long of a walk it was, but took her time, smiling as merchants hawked their wares loudly, lifting handfuls of glass beads and baskets of fruit in her direction. It was nowhere near as filthy as the slums of Radasanth with her fishmongers and whores lining the streets - not that there weren’t the usual prostitutes and fish sellers in this marketplace, they just kept their hands and words to a less offensive place.

After walking for nearly half an hour, Skyler was drenched in sweat, her hair sticking to her face, the pale blue linen of her chiton clinging to her skin. Nearly every corner held a fountain for just this reason, the playful splash of water against stone a welcome refreshment for any weary shopper. With a relieved sigh, Skyler slumped down on the side of the fountain, dipping her hands in the cool water and splashing it on her face and neck before taking a handful to drink. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to rest for a while here, so long as she was back at the apartment before Hawk returned for lunch.

[Inkfinger]

Cael had been expecting a nice letter. Skyler wasn’t the best at writing, but she was trying so hard. He was actually quite proud of her, and looked forward to each note with an almost-child-like anticipation.

He hadn’t, however, anticipated the date.

“This is nearly four months old, Bireth!” He fumed at the elf, waving the open envelope under his boss’s nose ten minutes later. He was in the process of changing, with the aim of getting out of this place and finding Skyler as fast as he possibly could. Îdhdaer, as usual, had come barging in without knocking. “Four. Months.”

Îdhdaer leaned against the wall, nose wrinkled slightly at the torn paper. “So it may have gotten a little…lost,” he offered by way of apology. “You’ve seen my desk; I don’t have the budget to afford a clerk…”

Cael rolled his eyes. He had seen the elf’s desk. It looked like an avalanche waiting to happen. But that didn’t help matters. He set the envelope and its message on the narrow bedside table, and flopped down on the mattress to try and peel off his socks. “That’s irony for y’,” he snarled irritably. “Y’ run t’ mail and y’ can’t even get it t’ your own staff on time…”

“I know, I know, I’m trying and I’m sorry.” Îdhdaer shrugged in a reasonable facsimile of apology, politely averting his eyes when Cael jerked his shirt over his head. The motion loosed a cascade of sand onto the braided rug. Cael ignored it as he scrubbed a week’s worth of kohl and grit from beneath his eyes, two weeks of sweat and grime from his shoulders. “I’ve got down to the six-month-old stuff now, though!” The elf’s words were far too chirpy. He was trying to make it sound like a good thing. “Soon my desk will be clear, and I’ll have a clean slate-”

“-just in time for t’ next mailbags from Scara Brae,” Cael cut in, dropping the washcloth into his water basin. He stood, and pulled the lid of the locker at the foot of his bed open to find a clean shirt. At least he reflected as he pulled it on, he got the laundry sent out. “I can’t wait to see what Irah thinks of this. You know she’s expectin’ t’do an inspection tour in a month or so?”

“….damn.” Îdhdaer’s simple word might as well have been a whimper. “We’re doomed.”

Cael couldn’t help a laugh, pulling the sandals he wore when not on a mission out of the footlocker. “She’s not a dragon. Maybe she’ll finally assign you an aide or something once she sees Mount Paper…”

“Oh, get out of here,” Îdhdaer whined, sitting on the edge of the bed that Cael had just vacated. “Just get out.”

Cael tossed him a sloppy salute, and headed for the door. He was halfway down the hall when Îdhdaer stalked out as well, calling after him. “And take the brat with you!”

Cael froze for an instant, then spun on his heal. Îdhdaer smirked at him from the top of the stairs. “Bireth, you do remember what I’m doing, right?”

“Going to see Skyler?”

“Yes. Skyler. The woman I am fairly sure I love. Who I have not seen in six months.” The elf blinked at him in stubborn incomprehension. Cael almost felt like stomping his foot. “What do you think she’s going to think when I show up with that…” He tried to think of an appropriate word, and wound up discarding each and every idea before it reached his mouth. “With your sister?”

“I don’t know,” Îdhdaer returned, archly, “And I don’t care. Just go.”


*

He spent the whole time he walked through the narrow streets of the Outlander’s Quarters trying to pry Nuärla off his arm. The looks he was getting from the general populace seemed to indicate he was insane for doing such a thing – who wouldn’t want a willing elf with all her attributes clinging to their person?

He wouldn’t, that was who. It was too hot, her hands were too clammy, and she smelled strongly of the cloying perfume he’d had to smell all the last week, and the week before, and the week before that as he kept her from getting into trouble with any manner of disreputable idiots.

“What is it, exactly?” he finally asked after the third time he’d had to disentangle the hem of his tunic from her slender hands, the fifth time he had to ignore the full-lipped pout. “Hmm? Do they not give y’ a change to be somethin’? Did they simply hand you a too-small shirt and shove y’ out the door? ‘Here, figure out some way t’ make money!’?” She stared up at him, but not too far up – she was nearly as tall as him. He remembered Skyler standing on tiptoe to kiss him goodbye with a fresh pang of longing that quickly turned into a fresh jolt of annoyance.

“Or did you chose to spend all your free time acting like…” All the words he could call her, again, trampled through his head and were summarily rejected. He’d been called them far too often for him to be flinging them out casually at some Elf. Even if she was some fifty or sixty years older than him, she still had the mentality of one of his sixteen-year-old nieces. Or, perhaps, nephews.
“
…a common street walker?” He finally managed to finish. “Is that t’ only way they give you any attention? Is that your problem?”

Hurt flashed in honey-gold eyes for a moment, but then she flounced off in a haughty jumble of curls and bronzed skin. “My problem?” She shot back over her shoulder, in a voice both poisonous and sweet as she marched down the alley. The words echoed off the whitewashed walls as she turned a corner, shoving someone’s vividly colored laundry out of the way. Cael barely ducked in time for avoid wet linen in his face. “I don’t have a problem. I think I know what your problem is, though.”

“Oh?” It was a dangerous question, but he couldn’t help but ask it as he jogged to keep up. “Then what, pray tell, is my problem?”

“You need to get laid.” Cael opened his mouth to snap out a protest, but Nuärla barreled on. “Though…I’ve seen your tattoo. I know what it means.” Cael trailed to a stop, staring at the Elf’s back, slowly feeling all the humor – potential or otherwise – drain from the situation. “It means you only like lovers with dicks.”

She looked back at him, her eyes showing that same strange, coy malice that had been in her voice. Her smile only grew when she took in his expression, a narrow-eyed combination of shock, pain and anger. “Is that it?” She purred, reaching out to stroke gentle fingers up his jawline. She giggled when he jerked away, neatly cornering him against the wall.

He could hear the voices of people passing by the alley; hear the regular trickle of water in the fountain in the square, and Nuärla’s intentionally-labored breathing. He could feel the heat of the sun, the dust on the air, smell the spices of the midday meal still rising from the houses, but in his mind – for all of a moment – he was back in a cold, smelly cell, waiting for his tormentors to return.

“Do you want me to talk to Îdhdaer?” Nuärla’s voice shook him out of his funk, even low and sultry as it was. He shook his head as if to clear it, focusing on his surroundings as she continued. “He’ll do anything with a pulse, most days, I’m sure he coul-”

Cael caught one dove-delicate wrist, jerking the elf off balance and pulling her close enough that he could feel her breath, now jagged with shock. He leaned until his face was inches from hers, teeth gritting together audibly and sending shooting pains up his jaw. For a moment, he felt both gratified and guilty at the fear visible on her face. Talking took what felt like an unfair amount of effort.

“I’m sorry, Nuärla.”

She blinked at him in confusion, her breath catching again, just a bit, when he leaned towards her. “F-for what?” she stammered, her normally clear voice squeaking at the end of the word as she tried to tug away.

“For assuming,” Cael said softly in her ear, gentle as an actual lover, “that we could actually have something resembling a civilized conversation.”

She didn’t respond, though he could see her shivering. He sighed, and shoved her away, abruptly. He didn’t need this. He didn’t want this. He stormed down the alleyway towards the square, leaving Nuärla to collect her dignity and follow, no doubt continuing to be impossible.

Any frustration he felt toward the elf maiden increased tenfold the moment he stepped out of the alley, and saw who was staring at him across the fountain.

Oh saints…

[skyler manfield]

Skyler let her mind wander as she trailed one hand in the water, her eyes following the varied visitors to the capital of Fallien. A building cast a welcome shade over the fountain for the time being, but as noon approached the shadows grew shorter. It was a nice enough spot to people-watch, and the assassin knew she had at least two more hours before Hawk would return to the apartment. As long as she returned before then, he probably wouldn’t even know she’d been gone to begin with.

A familiar voice caught her attention, and Skyler turned toward it, her face lighting up as she saw it’s origin. It was Cael, looking much better since the last time she saw him, his skin much less pale, the dark circles beneath his pale blue eyes nearly gone. He must have finally returned from whatever had kept him from answering her letter and had decided to go right to the apartment to find her. It was as though fate had planned for Skyler to choose today to escape the prison of her temporary home.

The light in her face was replaced by a shadow of confusion and then doubt as her eyes fell on the target of his raised voice. She was perfect, the elven girl, her figure the much sought after hourglass that whores paid hundreds of coin to attain through tightly laced corsets. Skyler watched jealously as she moved effortlessly down the street, her expression playful on her sun-bronzed face. Her golden curls bounced enticingly down her back, and combined with her lilting voice drew the attention of every male in the square. Where the elf was lithe Skyler was lanky, where she was all soft curves the assassin was awkward angles, in the place of the girl’s golden hair and skin, Skyler felt as if she were only shades of grey.

When the girl cornered Cael, her body close to his, her face only a breath away from him, Skyler wanted to look away. But it was like a ship sinking, one couldn’t look away until the last inch of mast disappeared. As the man reached up and took the girl’s wrist and drew her closer to him, Skyler felt her stomach tie itself into a tight knot.

There was no use staying, it was obvious that she’d been wrong about everything. He hadn’t intended to come find Skyler at all, it was just an accident after all. The assassin berated herself for missing entirely the reason she hadn’t heard any response to her letter. Of course he’d found a girl, a very pretty one. Skyler was only a friend, if that, and he probably just felt indebted to her or even sorry for her, otherwise he’d not have stayed in touch at all. She had misread everything that had happened beneath the Cathedral and after, and she hated herself for the sick feeling of disappointment she now felt.

Just as she stood up, their eyes met, and Skyler smiled weakly, clenching her jaw tightly - whether it was to keep from screaming or keep from crying she wasn’t sure and refused to consider. Instead, the mousy girl turned and took flight, pushing past vendors and shoppers, tripping over broken cobbles and stepping over and around children playing in the streets. Merchants shouted at her as she knocked over some of their wares but she did not stop, did not pause to see if Cael followed. Part of her prayed he would, part of her hoped he wouldn't.

She’d made it nearly half way back to the apartment when her lungs decided it would be a perfect time to remind her of their weakened state, another relic of her lovely adventure with Cael in the prison beneath the streets of Knife’s Edge. From one moment to the next it was as though she’d been submerged under water and her lungs filled to drown her. Skyler fell to her knees gasping but unable to catch her breath enough to even cough. A woman with two young children edged closer to the wall of one of the buildings, afraid she’d catch whatever terrible disease she figured the assassin must have.

A young boy, maybe all of nine summers old, knelt at Skyler’s side patting her on the back as he stared wide eyed at her. Her lungs rattled in her chest, and they felt like they were made of soaked tissue paper that would rip apart any moment. Finally, she managed to take a deep enough breath that she could cough, and when she started it was like a dam breaking.

[Inkfinger]

Well, saints damnit.

Cael had, in the months that had past since their parting, imagined their reunion. Sometimes they had been in Corone beneath the trees, the breeze of the mountains making her hair twist and curl as wildly as her soul. Sometimes they’d been back in Salvar, the lights dancing in the sky, the air the almost-warmth of late summer. Sometimes it had been here, in Irrakam, surrounded by other people but with eyes only for each other…

In his daydreams, there had been smiles and teasing and a heady warmth different from the sweltering heat of the desert. His daydreams were one of the few things that had kept him through the cold nights and hotter days –

- and the one, reoccurring factor that had not been in his daydreams was the elf-girl turned harpy currently ruining everything.

“Ooh, is that little Sky?” Nuärla purred, leaning against his shoulder, her hair brushing his skin and her breath gentle and moist in his ear. “I like her, she’s cute…a bit young for you, though, isn’t she?”

There was pain flashing in those bright sea-gray eyes, and the weak smile on Skyler’s lips only made that pain more vivid. Their gazes had only just crossed; their eyes had only met for a minute before she was off running. Cael took a hesitant step forward, uncertain if he should follow. Nuärla’s chuckle drew several looks from out in the square – women shaking their heads in dismay, men…well, being typical men.

“Tell her she’s got nice legs when you catch up with her.” He looked back at the elf, unsure of how, even, to respond to that other than fuming his frustration at her in a tangible cloud of rage. She inspected her nails carelessly, a satisfied gleam in her eyes when she finally met his half-wild stare in a demure flutter of lashes. “If you catch up with her.”

Cael jerked away, ignoring her laughs as he broke into a run across the square. “Skyler! Skyler, wait!”

His own voice echoed back to him off the stucco walls, almost hidden in the murmur of voices and the constant clatter of feet on clay tiles. The assassin had probably always been faster than he was, and was probably going to stay faster than him. The last six months of work had left him stronger, but no amount of exercise was ever going to give him back the full use of his bad leg.

He limped after anyways, vaulting a pile of spilled produce that Skyler had left in her wake. He could see the produce’s owner shaking his meaty fist out of the corner of his eye. He swerved to miss the angry native, catching his foot on a loose section of the street - his feet skidded out from beneath him, and he barely caught himself before he landed on his face.

The impact sent a spike of pain through his hand, barked the skin from his palm, but he pushed himself to his feet through sheer force of will. It was easy enough to follow the distraught girl – she was leaving a trail of fuming merchants and scattered wares in her wake. He almost felt like stopping at each and every cart to explain and apologize on her behalf, but that would only leave him even further behind.

He rounded another corner, and heard the familiar, heart-stopping rattle of Skyler’s desperate coughs long before he could see her. He had listened to that sound for ten days straight not too long ago. This cough sounded healthier than when he’d last heard it, but it was still a horrible noise, dragging him once again back to the snow and stress of the winter past…

That was then, this is now, he told himself, viciously shoving the memories away before they could steal reality entirely. She’s alright, and everything will make sense once you have a chance to talk.

He turned the last corner, and found himself in another square with another fountain, though both were smaller than the square they had just fled. The constant trickle of water did nothing to hide the wracking gasps from the other side of that fountain, and now that he was so very close Cael still hesitated, drawing to a stop so abrupt he almost lost his footing again.

The houses around them had worked together to create a tent of colored silken scarves, knotted together and tossed from rooftop to rooftop. They blocked out the worst of the mid-day sun and cast varicolored shadows on the well-worn tiles. The fountain itself was golden-orange, and Skyler – when he had moved around the fountain enough to see her – was hunched pitifully in a patch of vivid red that caught in her hair, turning her brown locks to a riot of copper and bronze.

There was a child next to her, a small boy, looking as wild-eyed and worried as Cael felt. He looked up as Cael stepped closer, young face drawn in a fierce snarl. He moved, quickly, and the next second he had a small knife – the type typically used for carving toys and cutting fruit, boyhood pastimes – in his tanned hand

Cael spread his own hands, taking one step closer, never taking his eyes from the boy’s. “It’s alright,” he said, softly. “I won’t ‘urt ‘er. I want to ‘elp ‘er…” He drew in a breath that felt as painful as Skyler’s coughs sounded. “If…if she wants me to, that is.” He took another cautious step closer. The boy put a protective arm around Skyler’s shoulder, and Cael let out a sigh.

“An’ if you’ll let me. Uhm.” He waved a hand at Skyler, and switched to halting Fallien. “Friend,” he managed, smiling halfheartedly as he slid to his knees, hoping the name wasn't a lie anymore. Not over some silly misunderstanding. “Very good friend. I help?”

[skyler manfield]

At first, Skyler barely noticed when Cael approached. She was focused only on trying to catch her breath. Every time she tried to inhale deeply, the breath would catch in her chest and she would start coughing again. When she finally did notice him, it was because the child had stopped pounding her back and instead was resting against her. The assassin drew in a ragged shallow breath as she turned to see Cael talking to the boy, and quickly turned her face away from him as she began coughing again. She heard him say something in the Fallien tongue to the boy who hesitated only a moment before scampering away.

Skyler could feel Cael’s presence at her side, and tried to keep her mind and body a safe distance away from him. If she hadn’t been concentrating so hard on catching her breath, she might have been more intent on increasing that distance but at the moment all she could do was allow him to help her to her feet and lead her to the edge of the small fountain a few yards away. When he tried to lift a handful of water to her face, she waved him off and scooped some water with her own hands and tried to still her coughing long enough to drink it. After a few minutes she finally managed to slow her breathing and stop coughing, although her breath still rattled a bit in her chest. She’d go boil a pot of water and breathe the steam in and she’d be fine.

But Cael sat beside her on the side of the fountain, blue eyes staring at her as though he had something to say and wanted to make sure she was well enough to hear it. Skyler knew that her face probably betrayed her hurt feelings, but she lifted her chin and plastered a brave smile on her lips and searched for the right words to make him believe it was safe to walk away.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, “Really. I know it probably seemed like I was running… away. But honestly, I only noticed you after I realized that I was late. Don’t know why but I completely lost track of time this morning and I’d hate to disappoint Hawk - I told him I’d be home and I know he’s probably worried sick.”

She knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t still her tongue. The confused expression on Cael’s face only fueled her steady stream of explanation and excuses.

“I just don’t want you to think that I was upset about you being with that girl - she’s right pretty isn’t she? Really, she’s perfect for you. I’m so happy for you and I’m sorry I don’t have more time to talk to you about it. Guess you should be getting back to her before she gets worried about you. Good luck and all that. Good to see you again.”

With that, she quickly stood and tried to get her bearings. Rather than stand there any longer and give Cael a chance to try to explain or worse for the girl to catch up to them - she didn’t want to be introduced to the golden-haired beauty - Skyler started walking down the closest alleyway, hoping it would lead her to a main thoroughfare so she could find her way home from there. Her heart fluttered nervously in her chest as though she had a sparrow trapped in her ribcage.

[Inkfinger]

She’s talking more than she should be... was the first thought that crossed his mind as he sat down next to her on the edge of the fountain, trying not to scowl at the water seeping into the seat of his pants. She should be at home, still resting, and…and I should have asked about a letter every time I came back in the last three months, this is all Îdhdaer’s fault….

His mental train of thought jumped the tracks when Skyler’s babble didn’t slow down, when it shifted from getting back to Hawk to that girl. That girl, of course, being Nuärla. Yeah. Yeah, that had probably looked bad. That had probably looked really bad.

“Sky, I can ex-”

The assassin was on her feet before the words had completely left his mouth, walking towards the nearest alleyway with purpose and confidence in her steps that was probably mostly for show, given the way she’d just been curled up and hacking. Cael grimaced, stood and jogged to catch up, ignoring the water dripping from the hem of his shirt in a steady patter of droplets.

“Skyler, that’s not…she’s…we’re not involved. I swear.” The girl didn’t slow down, but she didn’t ask him to stop following either. Cael decided to view that as a good thing, and sped up, just a bit, eyes roving the alleyways. If he got lost back here, it would probably take Nuärla hours to find him…

Good.

“I know…I know that it probably looked…really bad.” He hesitated a moment, then amended, “no, not probably, I know it looked bad. But…I swear to you, dear heart, it’s not what it looked like.” The elf just knew which triggers to pull to get a reaction out of anyone – even if they weren’t the triggers she was clearly used to.

Skyler still didn’t answer, didn’t slow down, and Cael’s knee was beginning to throb in the annoying way it usually did when he actually made it work, the numbness from the running flaring away into arthritic pain. “She’s my boss’s sister, I’m supposed t’ be trainin’ ‘er, she gets frustratin’ as all nine ‘ells…” He combed his hand through his hair with another sigh. “There were better ways of diffusin’ the situation, but you know me…if there’s an easy way an’ a good way, it’s usually t’last way I think of.”

That earned him a small snort, though whether it was of humor or derision or an after-effect of the coughing, he couldn’t tell – but at least it was a reaction. And, better yet, she even slowed. Looked, for a moment, as if she was going to turn and give him a chance to talk without following after like a puppy.

“Can I try t’explain a bit better? Walk y’ ‘ome, at least?” As if he wasn’t already doing that – but he’d prefer to be walking beside, not jogging behind. “Is Hawk…?”

And that sentence just trailed off uneasily, as if his brain was unwilling to go through another train wreck. Just…gods. If Skyler kept this up, Hawk was going to believe the worst and then things could only ever possibly go downhill from there. He swallowed, and tried to pick the one-sided conversation up as easily as he’d dropped it. “Is Hawk here still?”

[skyler manfield]

Her footsteps echoed off the walls of the buildings on either side of the alleyway, but hers weren’t the only ones that bounced back to her. She cursed silently and tried to walk faster even as she stifled another coughing fit. Not only had she been embarrassed when she realized that Cael wasn’t, in fact, “hers”, but she had been humiliated when she couldn’t even run away properly. And now he was following her. The last thing Skyler wanted was pity.

But he swore the girl was nothing. He swore they weren’t involved. And for a moment Skyler believed him. She paused, stopped running away, turned around to face him. The assassin wasn’t sure if what she felt was relief or hope or what exactly it was, but as he went on and on trying to explain away what she’d seen, her hope turned to doubt. The flustered chatter made it seem like he was trying to cover something up, trying to keep from hurting her feelings.

And just like that, doubt turned to something closer to anger. Of course, whether Skyler would admit it or not, for her anger was just a result of heartache.

“Yes,” she answered slowly, her voice dangerously quiet, “Hawk is still here.”

Her breath caught against the lump in her throat, and she clenched her jaw and forced herself not to look away. Grey eyes locked on blue, and she shook her head in disbelief.

“Don’t really see any need to explain much more. You don’t have to lie to me. I know I’m not very bright, and more than a little naïve. It took me a slap in the face to see what I should have picked up on three months ago.”

Skyler shrugged and exhaled loudly, very aware of how her breath wheezed in her chest. She didn’t want to tell Cael to leave, but she didn’t have too much more to say at this point. She was tired, hungry, and she knew by the shadows that Hawk was probably home and either worried or pissed off.

“I don’t care what you do, Cael. If you want to walk me home, then come on. Maybe you can help me explain to Hawk why I was out and about when I was s'posed to be resting. Just save the rest of the reasons and excuses for when we get there.”

The assassin turned away and looked around to get her bearings before picking a direction and walking away from Cael again. She walked slowly this time, considerate of his bad leg. Her stomach felt like it was doing somersaults, and her heart felt like someone was squeezing it in a vice, and her throat hurt from trying not to cry. It was only a few minutes before they reached the apartment - and Hawk stood angrily in the door to greet them.

“I don’t even want to know,” her mentor grumbled as he turned around and walked back into the cool shadows of the apartment. Skyler sighed and followed behind him. Maybe he wouldn’t berate her in front of Cael.

[Inkfinger]

Cael felt frustration ebb and fade in his mind, one second thinking she’ll come around, the next running the other end of the spectrum: she’s not going to listen, and she’ll hate me forever. Every time he tried to cling to the one lone board of his ship-wrecked optimism, his mind dragged him back under the waves before his mental fingers could find a firm hold.

“You’re far from naïve,” he muttered under his breath, sullen against every instinct he had; pressing on through the pride telling him he didn’t need this nonsense any more than he deserved it. To wit: at all. At least she had slowed down – it was easier to keep up with her that way, without feeling like his leg was about to lock up and send him tumbling. “I mean, if you’re naïve where does that leave me?”

Several steps below naïve, right? What did that make him? Clearly, somehow, still an idiot when it came to women. After almost seventeen years since he’d been the little boy in the big city, after almost seventeen years of dealing with them in one way or another, he was about ready to call it quits.

It did not make sense. He’d met many men in his travels who only viewed women as something to be conquered and bragged over (at best), or a convenient form of tension relief (at worst). Each of them had been – or seemed to have been – horribly charming and nigh-irresistible to the so-called weaker sex.

And here he was, trying to do the right thing and be a gentleman, and what did it earn him? Resentment, annoyance, and now the not-quite-broken-but-possibly-sprained heart of the one person he had never wanted to hurt. It didn’t make sense, it sure as hells wasn’t fair, and it was almost certain to end badly, in one way or another. Whether through Nuärla running to her big brother to tell lies, or through Hawk…

Gods. Hawk.

The older man was Ludvik’s friend, and half of the reason Cael was even alive and free now, instead of rotting in a shallow grave back home. He was Ludvik’s friend, yes – but first and foremost, he was Skyler’s mentor. Probably the closest thing the young woman had to a father. Cael could distinctly remember his own father’s quiet rage any time his sister shed tears over a boy. His father was a simple merchant, and his fury had been frightening. Hawk was a thief who had trained an assassin…

He swallowed hard against the sudden tightness in his throat, and forced himself to keep up with Skyler - easier now. She was pacing herself for him.

Maybe there's hope yet...

Skyler and Hawk’s home was a simple set of rooms in a row of such apartments – whitewashed stucco so white that it practically gleamed in the sunlight, bright enough to sting his eyes. Only the brightly colored curtains broke that brilliance, fluttering now and again in the slight breeze. Hawk stood in the doorway, and Cael’s hands were suddenly clammy for reasons that had nothing to do with the heat, and everything to do with Hawk’s expression – equal parts annoyance, anger, and – curiously – relief.

Probably at Skyler’s return Cael mused, uneasily. He gave the other man an awkward nod of greeting. The gesture wasn’t returned, but Hawk moved aside to let him into the cool interior of the apartment regardless.

The room was furnished in the typical style of Fallien – cushions and low tables and braided rugs instead of chairs and stools, simple tapestries on the walls to muffle the constant sounds of the street and the sand’s constant hissing against the outer walls. Cael hovered near the doorway, slipping off his sandals and brushing more of the ever-present grit from his feet before he dared further in. It was only polite, after all.

“It’s, uhm. It’s good to see you, Hawk, I’m…I’m sorry I’m late, Skyler’s letter was…” he paused, finally forcing a thin, wry smile. “Misplaced. Very misplaced.” He added, glancing at Skyler, apology bright in his pale eyes. “I only just got it less than an hour ago.”

[skyler manfield]

Skyler slipped into her bedroom which was kept private only by a violet silk curtain from which she removed the cord that tied it back. Cael was apologizing to Hawk for her lateness, and explaining why he hadn’t responded to her last letter. Sinking down on her low bed, the assassin picked up the letter she had received from Cael a little over three months before - the last time she had heard from him until today. Angrily, she crushed it between her hands and threw it on the floor before standing and gathering more comfortable clothing than the linen fabric that she had draped about her in the traditional fashion of the Fallien people. She could hear Hawk talking quietly to Cael in the main living area of the apartment, and paused in the process of changing clothes to listen to the exchange.

“I don’t know what you did, lad,” Hawk was saying, “She’s been restless, anxious to see you, but not angry at you. Until now anyways. Kind of expected her to run off and find you long before now.”

Cael’s answer was too low for Skyler to make out, and she scowled as she pulled on a pair of soft grey leggings and a blue sleeveless tunic that buttoned up the front. What if the letter really had been lost and he hadn’t gotten it? Even if it had, why hadn’t he tried to get in touch with her in the three months since his last letter? The assassin picked up the crumpled envelope from the floor and carefully straightened it out and laid it on her bed, then padded barefoot from her room, letting the curtain fall behind her.

Hawk looked up at her as she walked in, not quite succeeding in looking angry at her. Skyler raised an eyebrow at the only two people in the world she gave a damn about, then silently stalked into the kitchen area and began cutting up fruit and cheese and dumping them into bowls.

“Could have at least left a note,” Hawk pointed out, his voice almost sounding hurt, “I wouldn’t have minded quite as much.”

Skyler leaned forward, resting her elbows on the island that separated the kitchen from the rest of the living area, meeting Hawk’s questioning gaze. She very pointedly avoided Cael’s eyes. She wasn’t ready to hear anything else from him yet.

“I needed to get some air. Didn’t mean to be gone so long,” she muttered by way of apology, “Wasn’t even expecting to run across him.”

“He says he didn’t get your letter until today. Can’t be too mad at him if that’s the case,” Hawk reminded her.

Skyler glanced over at Cael, trying not to let him catch her gaze, but unable to miss those pale blue eyes. Clenching her jaw, she picked up the bowls and carried them from the kitchen and set them on the low table between Cael and Hawk.

“Hungry?” she asked, still trying to avoid the conversation, “What do you want to drink? Got fruit juice or water.”

Without waiting for an answer, she returned to the kitchen and grabbed three cups and a clay pitcher from the counter, trying not to slosh the juice within onto the tile floor. Setting it down on the table as well, she sank onto the cushions next to Hawk, picking a piece of melon out of the bowl of fruit.

[Inkfinger]

Skyler met his eyes for a second before her stormy gaze flicked elsewhere, a muscle in her jaw twitching. Cael tried to catch her attention again as she deposited the fruit and cheese on the table, but she was looking everywhere but at him, talking – but not saying anything of importance.

“Water’s fi-”

Skyler was out of the room before he even managed to finish the sentence. Cael cast a helpless look towards Hawk, who gave him an expressive shrug and a simple quirk of his eyebrows. He slouched down into the cushions, his back pressed against the rough wall behind him, arms crossed over his chest.

“I didn’t even know you were in Fallien,” he said again, softly, though he could tell resentment was creeping into his tone. “Or I would’ve come earlier. But when months went by and there weren’t any letters…” He paused and grimaced, falling silent when Skyler returned. He could hear liquid sluice against the sides of the pitcher as she set it down, the heavy thunk of clay on wood loud in the awkward silence.

The food was good, the melon sweet and cool, the cheese soft, but sharp enough in flavor to cut the melon’s taste, keep it from becoming overwhelming. It was a better meal than Cael had had in a couple days - provisions out on missions tended toward hard-tack, dried meat and stale water. It’s ironic that the only time you get decent food is when she’s around, isn’t it?

The awkward silence grew around them until it was an almost tangible part of the room, like fog or haze on a warmer continent. Hawk cleared his throat, leaning against the table. "So, Cael!" He said, brightly. Cael looked up from a new piece of melon. "What have you been doing that kept you away from the letter?"

Cael thought he heard Skyler give a small snort but he didn't look towards the girl. There was a fine line between "trying to get someone's attention" and "trying to make sure they're listening," and he wanted to stay on the first side of the line.

"I've signed up with the mail service, actually. It's new, they're tryin' t'set up a regular mail route between Irrakam and that outpost up North..." A route he'd been running back and forth and sideways over the last three months. He swore he knew every rock outcrop by now, every pebble.

"I think it's taking them longer than they anticipated, though. My boss ‘as timetables set up all over ‘is walls, we ‘aven't passed stage two and we're months behind on ‘is charts..." Not that Bireth was letting him look at them too closely, mind. He guarded them like Hawk's namesake, and twice as jealously. "Which is making ‘im stress out, because his boss is coming for an inspection or somethin’ in a couple weeks an’ we're behind an’ ‘is office looks like a tornado ‘went through it."

"That's progress for you!" Hawk laughed, taking a gulp of his juice. "I bet you can't do anything without fifty forms to fill out?"

"Something like tha’." Cael toyed with his own cup, glancing at Skyler out of the corner of his eye. She didn't look angry anymore, really...at least she looked like she was listening. "There are two other factions, and near as I can tell neither of ‘em ‘ave any paperwork at all, barring contract forms." Which the Freerunners had, in addition to everything else. "But they're native-based, so I don't think the Jya watches them quite as closely, you know? They don't ‘ave to earn th’ right to run like we do..."

"Bet that's been interesting," Hawk interjected. "Fallien's a lot different than Salvar..."

"You think?" Cael scoffed, finally taking a sip of his juice It was the orange-pink of sunset, and tasted like lemon and orange mixed with something that almost tasted like cinnamon. It was tart, but left a sweet aftertaste on the back of his tongue. "Bireth, my boss, gave me all these warnings before I even started, all this stuff about the whole nation hating outsiders, but I've met more friendly people ‘ere than I ever did back ‘ome..." He frowned, staring down into his cup. His reflection frowned back at him. That wasn’t entirely the case, was it?

"…And then the friendly people turn right 'round and threaten to kill you for somethin' y'don't even know you did.” He added, setting his cup down. “But the next day they're back to friendly." It seemed to have something to do with whatever rumors were floating around that day. Irrakam was nothing if not a rumor mill, worse than any school Cael had ever stepped foot in, almost as bad as Knife's Edge. He thought he had it figured out, paid off an old woman in the house closest to the il'Jhain headquarters to update him at least daily, but even she would, occasionally, turn on him.

"I think I'm getting used to it though. I just keep my ‘ead down any time I start getting glares from little kids an’ old ladies." And, since half his time was spent out on missions anyway, it wasn't as big a deal as many might think. "I kinda like it ‘ere, most days."

Hawk tilted his head, curiously, eyes hooded. "So you're planning on staying awhile?"

Cael saw Skyler's head move, a little, at the question. Like she was interested in the answer, but didn't want to seem obvious. He pretended he hadn't noticed as he nodded. "I think so. I mean..." He managed a lop-sided smile. "It's not exactly like I ‘ave a lot to go back for. My family's safe in Scara Brae now, anyone who mattered back ho-back in Salvar's not there anymore." He paused a second, then added, hastily, looking at Skyler. "They're ‘ere."

This time, Skyler did meet his eyes. This time, the look didn't melt back into a glare.

That was progress.


*

Once the fruit and cheese was gone, Hawk practically jumped to gather up the dishes, leaving Cael and Skyler alone in the room. The awkward silence from before threatened at the edges, prowled around the door, but Cael staved it off with one simple question.

"Are you…are you still mad at me?"

The question earned him another look and another snort, though this one was edged with humor and Skyler's narrow lips had twitched in what looked an awful lot like an attempt not to smile.

"I don't know. I'll have to think about it." She stood, shaking the wrinkles out of her clothes as she did. Cael hastily followed suit, wincing when his back cracked from sitting on the cushions so long. That was one of the few things he missed - what did the Fallien people have against chairs that actually supported your back? Skyler disappeared through the curtain that partitioned off the other side of the room, leaving Cael standing by the table. He stayed there, unsure of what to do, until she brushed the dyed silk out of the way, peeking out.

"Are you coming in or not? Hawk's just gonna stick his nose into everything if we talk there."

Cael glanced at the kitchen. Hawk had his back turned, stacking the dishes next to the sink - plus, it wasn't as if he'd forced her to talk or anything, was it? No. Not it was not. He slipped through the curtain, letting it fall behind him. The small room behind the curtain was neat - a low bed, a table and a single chair. A flash of blue silk caught his eye - his old coat hung neatly from the back of the chair, probably in better condition than he'd left it. There was a stack of letters on the corner of the table, and from where Cael stood they looked creased and rumpled. Well-read, probably about as often as /her/ notes were. Though he kept her's hidden at the bottom of his foot-locker, away from Bireth's prying eyes and nosy fingers.

There was one note, decidedly more crumpled than the rest, lying discarded on the bed. Skyler picked that one up, hurriedly smoothing it straight before setting it down on top of the stack. She sank down on the bed, looking up at him almost shyly.

"You really didn't get my letter until today?"

"I swear." Cael said sincerely, moving to sit down on the chair, facing her. He reached out, almost cautiously, to brush his calloused fingertips down her cheek. "I would have been here months ago if I'd got it any earlier. I've been worried about you." He laughed, slightly, shaking his head. "And I'm never trusting Bireth with my mail again." Or anything else, he added, silently. “’e’ll only lose it again, an’…I don’t want t’lose you. Not over somethin’ so damn silly.”

[skyler manfield]

Skyler blushed, her face and neck hot with the flush of embarrassment. Not just because she felt silly for doubting Cael, and for being angry with him over a stupid letter. The pink tinge of her normally pale cheeks was more a result of the simple thought that someone, anyone, but especially Cael, could even care if he lost her or not. In fact, until she met him, she’d have defied anyone to say they ever had her to begin with much less lost her.

“Hawk said…” she paused, still unsure of what exactly was between them, although slightly more certain that whatever it was he felt it too “He said that you would write when you were ready, would come when you were able and that I shouldn’t write. He’s always telling me to be patient.”

The older assassin had taught Skyler everything she knew, had been the closest thing she ever had to a father. And when Deacon, then second in command to Hawk who was the leader of the Radasanth Crime Syndicate at the time, told Skyler that her final task as an apprentice assassin was to kill her own mentor, Skyler had run. Hawk knew the girl better than probably anyone in the world. Up until she met Cael, her mentor was the only person in the world Skyler gave a damn about, much less trusted. And yet he insisted that she, of all the people in the world, exercise patience. Maybe if she’d done what she felt instead of listening to Hawk, then she’d have written a second letter which might not have gotten lost and then Cael would have known three months ago that she was in Fallien and could have saved her the rush of hurt, anger, and doubt she’d felt in the last hour.

“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have assumed you…” she hesitated, grey eyes looking around the room, anywhere but Cael’s face. She didn’t even want to go back to how she felt when she thought he had moved on. It was almost physically painful. She shuffled her bare feet over the cool terra cotta tiles of the floor as she thought of how to continue.

“It’s just… she’s so beautiful and well… it looked like you knew each other very well and I thought that you…” she looked back up at him finally, shrugging, “I mean… if you did want to… I would understand. It’s not like we really know each other all that well.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Skyler wished she hadn’t said them. The truth wasn’t something she had considered over the last several months. She had waited anxiously for every single letter and read each one every night before she fell asleep. She knew she was acting foolish, like some love struck little teenager (she‘d never admit to herself that that‘s exactly what she was). But she was righter than she had thought about until now. She didn’t know the man before her very well at all.

“After all,” she finally forced herself to continue, “Besides the few days under the Cathedral, and the day you left… and our letters, we really haven’t spent much time together. You’re nearly twice my age, and I can’t imagine you have much use for an assassin. I don’t know what you did to be in prison, and I don’t know how you got the scar on the back of your hand or what it means. I have no idea how you grew up or anything.”

She clamped her mouth shut, biting her lips between her teeth as if to hold them closed. Why did it sound like she was trying to talk him out of giving a damn about her? She really was acting like an idiot, talking much more than she ever normally did. Had the way she felt about him really addled her brains that badly?

The curtain across the door moved slightly and Skyler watched it for a moment to decide if it was just a breeze that had caused it to shift. But when it moved again she scowled and stood up, resting her hand on Cael’s shoulder without thinking as she slipped past him and pushed the violet silk out of the way.

Hawk blinked as she raised an eyebrow, her face only inches from his.

“Can I help you?” she asked a bit too sweetly, “If I recall, it’s you who discouraged eavesdropping. And besides, you’re not as good at it as I am. Go away.”

Her mentor looked genuinely disappointed as he turned away. Letting the curtain drop back down, she returned to the bed and sat down again, pulling her feet up under her.

“I guess… I don’t want you to feel like you have to like me just because I helped you,” she said quietly, as if the moments it had taken to shoo Hawk away had cleared her head a little, “I … care about you too much for you to feel…”

She couldn’t find the right word, and she sighed in frustration as she thought through her vocabulary to figure out what she meant to say. Unable to produce the words she wanted, the assassin looked up at Cael as though hoping he’d somehow know what she meant in spite of her lack of ability to finish her own sentences.

[Inkfinger]

“Stuck?”

The look she gave him was almost poisonous - possibly from the insinuation that she couldn’t think of such an obvious word. He chuckled, warmly, shaking his head; his smile fading slightly as her words sank in like spilled water out on the sands.

“I don’t feel like I have to like y'because of what y'did for me, Skyler. If that was the case I would feel like I had t'like Hawk too, t' an extent, and that would just get…” He glanced towards the curtain, grin returning a bit. “Awkward.” He stood for a second, long enough to spin the chair around before he sat back down, leaning with his arms crossed over the back of the chair.

Silence fell as the wheels turned in his head, moving the thoughts. He had been expecting something like this, eventually. Though, in honesty, he’d expected it more from Hawk. He’d had too much time to think out in the desert, under the stars. Sometimes thinking was the only way he could escape Nuärla’s whining or (worse) her propositions. He reached out to brush his fingers across the back of one of her hands, not wanting to just grab, not wanting to test any boundaries right now.

“We really don’t know each other, do we?” Cael finally continued, his fingers dark against her skin this time, the motley collection of colors faded beneath the tan. Last time he’d really touched her, they had both been pale as ghosts, and probably a few dozen pounds underweight. She looked healthier. It was good. He could have counted every rib when they’d parted ways. “I know that. And…” He ran his other hand through his hair with a sigh. This really isn’t how I imagined things.

“It may turn out - someday - that we’re not...right for one another.” he added, glossing over the brand topic for now. His captors had really miscalculated with that, hadn’t they? The crooked cross-and-circle didn’t mean a thing out of Salvar, and even there few knew it. Which means Îd had to have told her. Damnit. He kept his eyes on their hands, not even seeing the scar against the tan and the colors. “I 'ave no use for an assassin, and I can’t imagine you 'ave much need for a scribe.” Though he could think of a few – the sorts of things he’d been thrown beneath the Cathedral for in the first place.

“Gods know y'deserve…” Someone younger, someone stronger, someone less broken… “…much more than I can, and will ever be able to, give you.” He traced a small, gentle circle against her skin. “But I can tell you one thing.” He raised his eyes to Skyler’s face. “I do know I’d really like t’try. And as for Nu-”

As if on cue, the rest of his sentence disappeared in the sound of a fist pounding against the door. Cael dropped his head, banging his forehead against his arm repeatedly. Skyler looked towards the door incredulously, though the curtain blocked her view.

“She followed you?”

“She practically thrives on negative attention,” Cael shot back, words muffled by his arm. “She probably let some low-life scum buy ‘er a drink or ten but then she got fed up with ‘im ‘anging on ‘er every word and came t’bother me again.” He raised his head, hair ruffled and out of place. “I ‘aven’t ‘ad a moment's peace from ‘er in three weeks.”

Skyler’s eyes snapped, more the color of steel than the color of the ocean now. She raised her voice. “Don’t answer the door, Hawk!”

“Too late!” The sultry voice that answered was too high (and too feminine) to be the elf, drowning out Hawk’s wordless protest. Cael smacked his forehead again before unfolding himself from the chair, shifting it so it was between him and the curtain. Nuärla’s voice grew a tiny bit louder. “Where are you lovebirds, anyways? Leaving me behind wasn’t very nice…” Her tone shifted to an audible pout. “Not nice at all.”

Cael just had time to put his finger to his lips when the curtain rings jangled, and the curtain was pushed partially open. Nuärla grinned, brightly, as Hawk shook his head behind her, shrugging apologetically. Cael only had time for a quick glare before the elf sauntered into the alcove, clicked her tongue in disappointment. “And here you are, both dressed…I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

Cael’s glare turned to her now, and she winked in a knowing way that sent his stomach to his shoes. She looked down at Skyler. “He’s not had you yet, has he?”

“Nuärla!” Cael let go of the chair, eyes narrowing. “I know your brother’s my boss, but so help me…”

“Know why that is?” Nuärla purred, not talking her eyes of Skyler as she pointedly ignored him. “He’s marked, yanno.” The elf raised one dainty hand, tapping the back of it with her other hand’s perfectly manicured fingers. “‘He who spreads.’ You know what that means, right? He’s playing you for somethin’-or-other, ‘cuz he's not interested in you, your sweet little blue-eyed-boy’s a fuckin’ manwho-”

In later days, he’d never be sure who moved faster at that point: Hawk, to cover Nuärla’s mouth or himself, to catch Skyler before she got to the elf...

Or Skyler.

[skyler manfield]

At first Skyler didn’t even notice the knock on the door. It was Cael’s reaction that clued her into who was knocking. Unfortunately, even Skyler’s insistent yell to Hawk not to permit the annoyingly exquisite elf into their home was unsuccessful. The all too perfect voice that matched the all too perfect body hollered down the hall, mockingly sweet. The assassin’s hands clenched into fists as the elf invaded Skyler’s own private space and the very private conversation she’d been having with Cael.

That alone would have been enough for her to throttle the girl, sending her long golden legs up in the air over her bouncing golden curls, ass over elbows. Skyler’s jaw twitched as the elf continued to purr out little slivers of intentionally acidic flirtation. When the girl asked if Cael had slept with her yet, she wasn’t sure she understood where the question was leading, and she looked to Cael questioningly.

The question was answered quickly. Also revealed was the mysterious meaning behind the brand on the back of Cael’s hand. The meaning itself didn’t bother her.

Hawk’s hand slapped hard down over the elf bitch’s perfect little mouth, and Cael stood to get between Skyler and Nuärla about two seconds too late. The assassin’s hand reached for the stiletto that lay on the bedside table even as she vaulted herself toward the elf, her eyes blazing. When she fell against Cael, she shoved him hard out of her way and grabbed Nuärla by the hair, lifting her blade.

Skyler’s mentor prevented her from actually killing the girl, grabbing the assassin’s wrist and twisting almost hard enough to snap the small bones with his grip and driving her to her knees in pain. She had managed to draw blood though, and as Hawk released her wrist, thinking it safe to let the assassin go, Skyler quickly shifted back to the balls of her feet and launched herself into the elf’s shins, knocking her hard to the floor. The knife had clattered to the terra cotta tiles when Hawk had tried to stop Skyler from killing Nuärla, so the assassin was unarmed as she straddled the girl, hands around the elf’s slender throat and mouth very close to her ear.

“I don’t care what it means, but you ain’t got a clue what it really means, do you, you selfish little whore? No idea where he got that or what price he paid to get it?” Skyler’s voice was low, menacing as the growl of a hungry wildcat, “Should give you one just like it – might suit you better than him. Or maybe you could just say somethin’ else so I can squeeze the breath right outta your pretty li’l face?”

Nuärla grasped at the assassin’s wrists and mouthed silent pleas for a chance to breathe, but Skyler had absolutely no intention of letting go. With an infuriated howl, the lanky assassin found herself being dragged off of the elf by two men who both had a couple of inches and more than a few pounds on her and pulled hard back to the bed, kicking and screaming. Hawk held her down even as she struggled, alternating between sobbing and shrieking. Only every third or fourth word formed itself into anything actually resembling a recognizable language, and every single one of those words was a scathing epithet.

“Breathe,” Hawk tried to calm Skyler down, but she kept struggling as though she had to escape or all the demons of the Underworld would be at her door, “Skyler… breathe…breathe… you can’t kill her… she’s not going to say anything else…”

Skyler stopped struggling finally, and although she still panted as though she’d run laps around Irrakam, she stopped cursing and screaming. The sunlight filtering through the window lit the sheen on her face which could have been either sweat or tears.

“I’m breathing… I’m breathing,” she sobbed finally, and Hawk relaxed his grip on her arms and climbed off of the bed, but kept himself between her and Nuärla just in case. Skyler lifted her hands to her face and rolled over on the bed to face the wall, partly because she didn’t even want to see the face of that spoiled little elf-whore, and partly because she didn’t want to look at Cael and see how her meltdown had struck him. She wasn’t embarrassed, but she was more than a little afraid of how Cael might have reacted to her pushing him aside to attempt to wring the life out of his boss’s baby sister.

[Inkfinger]

Cael hovered at the end of the bed, fighting the urge to rub his elbow as he watched Hawk try and calm his protégé down. A bruise was already forming halfway up his arm, and touching it would change nothing. He had not expected Skyler to react quite that violently, or quite that quickly. The girl had tripped him up...but he’d survive. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen infinitely worse.

You underestimated her, he thought, ruefully. Have you still not learned your lesson about that?

Hawk slid off the bed, giving Cael a sympathetic glance as he released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding through his friend’s kicking and cursing.

Apparently not.

The young woman was silent now, curled around herself in abject misery. Cael sat down on the edge of the mattress, and reached out to brush his fingers across her hair. Needing, somehow, to tell her that he was still there, that he wasn’t running off this time. He hesitated at the last minutes, fingertips just inches from her head, one miniscule movement away from actual contact.

Movement caught his eyes from the other side of the room - Nuärla tossed her own (now mussed) hair, and gave him another knowing smirk, licking blood from the corner of her mouth with a dainty, cat-like tongue. Cael’s lips curled in a sneer of derision, and he closed the remaining distance with one tiny motion, fingers carding gently through the tangle of silky locks. His other hand ghosted across Skyler’s rage-stiff back, pressing between her shoulder blades. He could feel the tension in her muscles, feel her trembling beneath his palm, and he breathed out a low sigh.

“Skyler, dear heart, don’t cry…” I hate it when you cry. She had cried – they both had – when they were still caged in the dungeons beneath the Cathedral, and then later when they had said goodbye, not knowing when (or if) they would meet again. Neither thought was a good memory.

But what am I supposed to say? It’s alright that Nuärla’s a brat? It’s fine for you to try and kill people for insulting me? I’m sorry I’m so confused? On the one hand, having two women fighting over him might be considered flattering. Any of his brothers would certainly think so, think this situation should be milked for all it was worth. On the other hand, however, this was between Skyler, the girl he rather suspected he loved, and a manipulative elf with control issues. And navel gazing will only make this worse. What you need is a way to dig out of this hole.

He scooted further back on the bed, leaning against the wall as he continued to play with Skyler’s hair. He kept his eyes on Nuärla, fighting to maintain a neutral expression. His glimpse of Hawk, still leaning against the wall just beyond the curtain, helped the words come easier.

“You’re lucky you’re still alive,” Cael said, quietly, careful to keep the reproach and disgust out of his voice. “She…” He felt a fresh rush of overwhelming gratitude, the same as he always felt when he thought of how it had felt to see the sun for the first time in months, how it had felt to breath clean air and move without the abrasive sound of iron on iron. “She saw what ‘appened t’ me, y’know, t’sorts of things that earned me the brand. She saw why I’m marked, without knowin’ what the mark itself meant.”

Nuärla’s eyes shifted from his, silently, and he moved his gaze to Skyler instead. Curled up, shaking with exertion or anger, fear or sorrow, or some mixture of all of the above and more – she looked like a scared little girl this way, not the fierce warrior he knew she could be. He’d be damned if he would let the elf win in this small-scale battle for his friend’s mind.

“She ‘as seen me at my absolute worst, sobbin’ an’ naked an’ beggin’ on some filth-stained floor-” his voice pitched, sharply, at the too-vivid rush of memories. Skyler went still beneath his hand, and he cleared his throat, glancing up. The elf’s face had gone pink across her cheekbones, and she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “…An’ she chose t’ stay with me anyways. She saved my life, possibly saved my soul.” He tilted his head, let the growing snarl he’d felt building up finally erupt from his mouth, spat out like the need to say the words left them bitter on his tongue.

“What in the name of all nine ‘ells makes y’think I would ever betray ‘er for you?”

Nuärla didn’t answer for the longest time. When she finally spoke, her words were subdued. “Îd’s got a job for you,” she said in a dull monotone, as if a switch had been flipped on her personality. “He wants you back at the office soon as you get a chance.”

She turned on her heel in a brush of golden curls and silk, and stalked down the hall. Cael watched her go, feeling the confusion surging back from all corners of his mind. He quickly shoved it away, looking back to Skyler.

“She’s gone,” he reported, before adding, “and I meant everythin I just said.” He paused again, and continued, lower. “I 'ope y'know that.”

[skyler manfield]

Skyler allowed herself finally to relax from the ball she’d curled herself into, unfurling like a folded flag let to flow in the winds that stirred the sands of the Fallien desert. The elf was gone from the room, and Hawk was lurking somewhere just out of sight, and Cael was sitting beside her on the bed looking at her with those strangely pale blue eyes. What he had said about her was still playing through her mind, and for a long while she didn’t respond to his final words as she tried to process what it all meant. Outside of himself and Skyler, the assassin was pretty certain he’d not shared even a breath of what happened beneath the cathedral, and it struck her deeply that he spoke of it now as a means of expressing how things stood between the two of them.

“I don’t believe in souls,” Skyler said, her voice a bit hoarse, unsure of what else to say at first, “But I know what you mean. And I know you meant it. I meant what I did and said too. Don’t reckon it’d have looked too good for you at work if I killed her though. Probably best Hawk stopped me.”

Maybe it would have been better if she’d managed to off the haughty elf. As it were, Cael was needed enough by his employer that he was required to report back to his boss as soon as he could – which was much too soon for Skyler. She didn’t really want to think about it at the moment. She’d bring it up later. For now, she would draw out the time between now and when Cael had to leave for as long as she could.

“T’be honest, I think if anyone got saved it was me,” she finally continued quietly, catching and holding his gaze, “After all… how often does someone like me get to be the hero? And how many chances does a girl like me get to meet someone half as good as you?”

Rather tentatively, the assassin reached over toward Cael, letting her hand rest carefully over his before allowing herself, with breath held, to actually hold his hand. The whole physical affection thing was still rather foreign to her. She hadn’t really had any form of parent, and of course Hawk hadn’t been one for hugs and cuddles. She wasn’t innocent to what was beyond physical affection, but anytime she’d had any sort of “romantic” attentions from anyone, it had been anything but affectionate, or even intimate. The hand holding wasn’t quite as awkward as she feared though.

“Do you really have to go already?” she asked him finally, trying not to look too distraught over it, “You really only just got here, and then she came. Seems like you should get some sort of break, at least… for a few days. Or maybe I can just, I dunno, tag along?”

Before Cael could even start to respond, be it positive or negative, Hawk rather forcefully shoved the poor, defenseless curtain out of the way and stuck his head back into the room, brows creased and eyes dark as storm clouds.

“Don’t even think about it, kid. You’re still recovering,” he thundered, “’Sides, I’m sure Cael’s boss wouldn’t approve of him bringin’ you with him. Just get in the way’s all you’d do.”

Skyler didn’t get a chance to argue. Hawk let the curtain fall behind him as he stomped away down the hall.

[Inkfinger]

“…well.” Cael huffed out a breath he had been about to use to answer before Hawk interrupted, watching the curtain fall still in the wake of the older man’s departure. “I guess,” he said softly, trying to stomp down at the sudden hope that had risen at Skyler’s question. “That answers that?”

Hawk’s reasons were sound, well thought out, but…well. Îd was always looking for new riders. He had a married couple working for him, had since the beginning, so he couldn’t turn Skyler down on account of a possibly-maybe-relationship. It was a paying job, and it didn’t really require outside skills, other than the ability to keep a level head instead of panicking, and the knack for staying on a spooked mount.

Plus, the elf’s been down three runners lately, hasn’t he? Cael thought, chewing on his narrow lip thoughtfully. Something about the paths changing… That thought lit the rest on fire, like a match placed to tinder. …that’s what this’ll be about, won’t it? Îd had other riders, but for some reason, Cael was the only he confided in.

The inkmage bit back a groan, and gave Skyler’s hand one more squeeze. “You’re absolutely right, though,” he said, mental wheels trundling through the flames rising. “I’m supposed to have a break between jobs, ‘s in the contract an’ everythin’.” Granted, that contract was on the back of a feed requisition receipt, collecting dust at the bottom of Îd’s pile of paperwork, but it was a contract. “But ‘e’s normally stuck by that contract, which makes me think this is probably pretty important. Though when Îd ‘ad a chance to tell Nuärla is beyond me…” maybe before I left?

“Would she be going with you?” Skyler asked, her body showing the tell-tale stiffening of a coiled snake about to strike. Cael resisted the urge to kiss her fingertips, meeting her steeling gaze with an apologetic glance.

“Probably,” he admitted, “She’s been my shadow for months now. Îd doesn’t trust anyone else with ‘er, for obvious reasons.” Skyler snorted, looking seconds away from speaking, but Cael plowed on. “You’d think she’d realize by now that I’m not interested, but…” He shook his head. “Maybe today it’ll sink through to ‘er brain. Maybe not. But either way, I can’t just tell her t’ get lost. Saving money’s hard enough with a job. I’d hate t’ try without one.”

And money was important if he wanted to buy land, a house…he might not be the most knowledgeable man when it came to these sorts of things, but he knew one thing. He wasn’t about to ask someone to stay with him when he had no place to stay. Fallien was nice, and if he saved enough maybe he could buy one of the airy houses on the hills above the city. It would be nice to have a place to call his for the first time since…

Well. Probably since before Skyler was born.

He shook that thought off, trying to fight off the ones that came with it: would Skyler even want to stay, if he asked it? Did she like Fallien enough? Did she like him enough? Did –

Right. Enough of that. Cael glanced toward the curtain, and leaned in close to Skyler, murmuring in her ear. “If I could convince ‘awk-” or distract him long enough for you to get out without him noticing – “Would y’ want t’ come? At least t’ see what the boss wants? For all I know he just needs someone to make the Sandtrap…” The Sandtrap was a two hour run on a bad day. Something told him it wouldn’t be that, but hey. It was worth the hope, right? Skyler was light enough that Kina would be able to carry them both without batting an eyelash. “I would love t’ ‘ave your company.”

[skyler manfield]

Skyler squinted at Cael, pursing her lips to one side as she held his gaze, trying to determine if he was serious or not. She already knew he was, but it still seemed odd that she was actually wanted. With a heavy sigh, the assassin laid back on the bed, folding her arms behind her head and staring up at the ceiling high above.

“’Course I’d wanna come,” Skyler shook her head and closed her eyes, “Ain’t seen nothin’ of Fallien but the inside of this place, ‘cept for today. S’more’n that though. I wanna actually be ‘round you outside of life or death situations; and for more’n a few days at a time.”

Hawk would never allow her to go gallivanting off into the desert with some prison-escapee that he only barely knew. He’d sooner keep her locked away forever than that. Suddenly, as if someone stuck a pin into her, Skyler sat up and jumped off the bed, pushing the curtain out of her way and stepping into the hallway, looking for Hawk. She finally found him in the kitchen cutting up bread and cheese for dinner. He’d go out soon to acquire some fresh river fish from the market.

“Hawk,” Skyler raised her chin and steeled herself for the storm she was about to cause, “We need to talk.”

“You’re not going,” he told her without so much as looking up, “I’m not going to argue with you.”

The assassin reached across the counter and grabbed his hand, wrenching the knife from his grasp and forcing him to look her in the eye. A lock of his dark hair had escaped from the leather thong that tied it back out of his face and it hung across one eye. The other eye, dark brown and hard as stone, looked back at Skyler coldly. Part of Skyler was terrified just by that look. But the part of her that had kept her alive long enough to get her out of the Salvarian prison wasn’t willing to give up and walk away and let Cael go on with his life without her.

“You don’t get to argue,” Skyler finally said, “’Cause I’m not asking this time. I’m goin’ with Cael.”

“You think so,” Hawk laughed loudly, shaking his head in disbelief, “You’re a little girl. You don’t get a say so. You’re still getting better from your little hemlock experiment, and you don’t have any skills to speak of that would do Cael any good.”

“Balls! You know that ain’t nothin’ but you wantin’ to keep havin’ control over me – I’m not a little girl! And even if I was, you obviously didn’t care about that much when you took off outta Radasanth a year ago when Deacon was after your hide. An’ you weren’t too worried about my well-bein’ when you sent me down in that prison after Cael,” her voice rose as she stated her case, “I’m a fully trained assassin, and you know full well I got other skills ain’t nobody else got. If I wanna leave, I can either sneak out later – and you know I can without you knowin’ a thing about it – or I can go with your blessin’”
She didn’t give him a chance to respond or argue further. The girl stalked off down the hall back to her room and started packing a bag. The look she shot Cael was one that could have been excitement or fear – probably a combination of both. Her hands were trembling and her heart was pounding and all she could think about was whether Hawk would ever speak to her again if she left. Never in a million years would she have dreamed of standing up to her mentor before she met Cael, but now she was preparing to walk away from him and possibly never look back. She kept waiting for Hawk to come in and yell at her and tell her she’d only leave over his dead body.

“It’s done,” she finally told Cael, “. I just need to change clothes. Then I’ll be ready to go.”

[Inkfinger]

Cael remained sprawled on Skyler’s bed as the young woman reached the end of some sort of internal conflict and all but launched herself from the room, as if she had to storm out or risk losing her resolve. He watched the curtain fall closed before he collapsed onto the pillow, staring at the ceiling.

This, he thought wryly for probably the tenth time that day, arms tucked beneath his head and Skyler’s steadily rising voice ringing in his ears, is not how I pictured this going. At all.

He sat up, abruptly, as Skyler’s voice shifted in pitch and intensity, Hawk’s lower tones trying – and failing – to interrupt or interject. But she has a point now, he added, pulling his pen from his pocket. She’s an adult, and he doesn’t really have a claim…or whatever… But there remained the fact that until she’d come to rescue him, Hawk had been the only one in her life. And now he’d somehow gone and ruined that.

Lovely.

He rifled through the stack of dog-eared letters until he found an envelope that wasn’t too torn up. He carefully popped the seams open, unfolding it in the familiar crackle of low-quality paper. “Don’t worry,” he wrote in broad, hurried strokes; praying with each letter that he wasn’t writing a lie. “I’ll try to keep her out of trouble. We’ll be back in a couple days.” He chewed the end of his pen for a second before adding - very small and at the bottom of the torn envelope – "i hope."

He blew on the ink hurriedly, listening as the shouted conversation seemed to reach its angry pinnacle. He had just enough time to shove the still damp-damp envelope under the pillow before Skyler swept back into the curtained room, surrounded in an air of startled triumph that sparked from her eyes. Her last statement, however, warred with her defiance, and he had to hide a smile.

“I would think so,” he said, mildly, tilting his chin at the short tunic and sandals. “That’d be alright durin’ the day, mind, but it gets pretty cold at night…”

She looked around the small room for a moment, looking strangely lost before Cael kicked his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up the rest of the way. “You might want trousers for night,” he began. She moved to collect things as he began to list them off. “A heavier shirt if you’ve got one…maybe a cloak…”

She gave him a short, indiscernible look before ducking down and reaching under the bed to haul out a tightly rolled bundle of clothing, all dark woolen fabric and heavy denim. “Like the stuff we’d wear at home?” She asked, a trace of humor returning through the defiance-borne haze.

“Ah…” And why hadn’t i]he[/i] thought of that? “Yes. Yes, pretty much that exactly.”

He stayed where he was as she pulled the cords holding the bundle closed off, discarding them on the floor. “I never bothered unpackin’ them, you know.” She peeled off a pair of pants and a couple shirts, adding them to the meager pile. “I didn’t really see a point.”

Cael shook his head as he leaned over himself, looking under the low bed. There was a pair of boots shoved all the way under, flopped against the wall. He stretched to reach them, dragging them out and dropping them next to the pile. “I guess there wasn’t much of a point until now,” he admitted, “especially if you were just in the house…” He politely averted his eyes as she added undergarments to the mess, allowing the smile to creep out when she snickered at him. “And…um. How do you feel about Arnabiss?”

“Arna-what now?”

“Arnab-um. They’re those…things. About yea high,” He held his hand above his head, watching her shove her clothes into a knapsack. “Look like someone’s taken a rabbit’s head, shoved it on a big cat’s body?” He tilted his head as she slowed down, looking at him curiously. “You’ve….really not been out much since y’got ‘ere, ‘ave you?”

She shook her head, still looking at him. He fought to quash a pang of anger down: protective was one thing, but this was a bit much.

“Well,” he found himself saying as he finally stood, holding his hand out in a silent offer of help as she pulled the pack shut, “They’re…well. I was askin’ because they’re likely what we’re gonna wind up ridin’ out of ‘ere…”

“…oh.” Skyler reluctantly passed the pack over, and Cael hoisted it over his shoulder with another small grin.

“Don’t worry, though, they don’t bite, ‘less you look like a carrot.”

A slight lie, that. They did tend to nip when they were annoyed, and the front rabbit-like teeth gave way to sharp feline teeth far too early for the bites to note break the skin, but the rider had to be trying really hard to make the mounts angry enough to snap. He crossed the small room to brush the curtain aside one last time. “I can assure you, you don’t look like anything they’d like to eat.”

“Can you?” She teased back, ducking under his arm to exit the room, pointedly ignoring Hawk padding down the hallway. Cael managed to meet the older man’s eyes for just a moment. Hawk’s eyes were hard and stern, but not cruelly so. He gave Cael a short, sharp nod before he disappeared further into the dim hallway. Cael swallowed, and followed Skyler to the front door. “How do you know what we look like to them?”

“Well…” Cael thought for a moment, pushing the door open and stepping back out into the oppressive afternoon heat. “I guess I don’t really….”

*

The walk back through Irrakam took longer at their more sedate pace. They paused every now and then for Cael to point out landmarks and areas of interest: half because of her comments about not having seen the city since she arrived, half in case she changed her mind and decided to head back to Hawk.

He prayed it wouldn’t come to that. That would just be the prefect ending to the day. He finally led Skyler from the maze of buildings, and onto the open plaza that held the main office of the il'Jhain.

“And ‘ere we are,” he announced, waving his hand at the stucco building a hundred feet off. “Almost time t’ see what the insufferable nag that is my boss wants us t’ do…” He let out a plaintive sigh, scuffing the dirt with his foot. “I don’t wanna go back t’work.”