The guard grinned a little. Stare knew he was thinking of the night at the theatre, when Sable had spoken. And Vitruvion had not denied it. After then he had tried to quell the rumours - or, rather, he had specifically tried to quell the ones concerning his feelings. Those exact ones. Rumours of romance were something else.

She considered how he had rolled into her bed throughout the last year. All of those embraces were forced ones, that Stare had felt uncomfortable with, and resisted. Now that she had accepted that these public displays of affection were going to heavily be in her life, things would be smoother.

“To make you aware, we are not … intimate.”

He raised his brows but shrugged. “Still,” he spoke in a low voice. “Miss Stare, it does explain why he has not entertained Sable or Blaze recently …”

Stare tightened her jaw and looked flatly at him. “Just to remind you, Zulon, he is connected to my mind, and can hear what you say.”

He raised his hand in innocence. For a moment she continued to glare at him, though carefully keeping her emotions in check, so as not to cause him any harm. If she had lips they would be pursed.

“The rumours will survive Miss Stare. Of course if you wish I will deny what I hear but they will spread.”

Stare looked away again, but she knew she had to admit it. Very much, she already knew it; from the moment he had carried her in such a way it was only ever going to be a time. And word spread fast in the Hollow, for though the community was divergent it was few in number, and the guests had little to do but socially but converse - with each other and the guards, who were their only communication to the outside world. They would feed on what gossip they could and run riot.

“I would not be surprised if it has already.”

She was silent for a moment then replied dryly. “Well that is that,” the dullness of her eyes made it clear she was not amused.

Zulon leant back, observing her as the wordlessness stretched between them. His hand played on the hilt of his sword. Stare drank slow, her eyes growing heavy with time. Things seemed unable to be said, and it came to be that she discovered she did not really want conversation, just to think about what this revelation meant. Did not having her soul in her current body make her more powerful, as Vitruvion had said? Or was he just saying that to make her feel better? The fact he would not tell her where it was - and she knew for definite that any attempt at persuasion on her part would not make him reveal it as she knew how stubborn he was - bothered her only a little. For the majority it mostly made her uncomfortable, even though she knew it would be safe. The god was so obsessed with keeping her safe that he was forcing her to move into the Hollow indefinitely. However, it still was very unnerving to know suddenly that her soul had not been in her body for more than three months now, without her ever realising or knowing.

These thoughts played on her mind, and she found herself beginning to wallow in self pity. Her eyes grew duller as she finished off the last of her lager. Leaning back in the chair she stared at the wall, watching the way the errant steam from the kitchens nearby curled off them and strained in spiralling efforts to reach the small ventilation shafts that led back into the building of the Guard House. Her arms ended up folded across her chest as she sat there for an hour so in perfect irritation.

After a long time she remembered Zulon was there too, and looked over, only to him not in the same chair. Instead he was over the other side of the room, talking in a low voice with another guard, evidently in the way that their heads were conspiratorially close discussing business. As she blinked at him she realised just how tired she was, after being up most of the night and still not with successful sleep. Indeed, she could fall asleep in this chair - the lager was certainly inviting her to - and her eyes had been drooping ever since he had come to speak to her, but it was not the most comfortable place. Going to Ventrua’s room was not an option because of the same reasons she had not gone to it originally, and the only other place was into the antechamber with her sofa, or Vitruvion’s bedroom, where she certainly did not want to be. For she was still in a bad mood with him and -

An idea struck her as she looked at the acting Captain of the Guard. She realised he had been following her and Vitruvion through the night, but did not seem tired himself. Was it possible that he had briefly laid his head down, somewhere close by that did not need her to go far? Perhaps an overnight guard room for sleeping within Vitruvion’s apartments or similar, that had the potential to be empty this time of day.

Quickly, she sat up, eye bright with the idea. “Zulon?” she asked.

The guards’ conversation cut off sharply. Green eyes looked over to her, as well as a pair of hazel ones. “Miss Stare?” Zulon replied in the same tone.

“Are there … sleeping quarters nearby? For you lot resting during the night, between shifts and so on?”

Zulon looked over to his companion, then back to her. He paused, confusion in his face as he answered. “... Yes, there is. It’s just a couple of doors down from here. Why do you ask, Miss?”

“Anybody in it now?” she was already starting to get up, brushing down her tunic.

Slowly, he shook his head, sitting up as he realised her intentions. “No, Miss Stare, but-”

She was already moving, raising a hand, “Thanks,” she said lightly, adjusting her wings as she strode. “If anyone is looking for me, tell him he can wait for me to wake up.”

“Miss,” Zulon said in a strangled, shocked tone, “Miss, just wait, please …”

His companion, however, rose a hand and touched Zulon lightly on the shoulder. Stare looked at the hazel-eyed man as she saw, and threw him a glinting pleasure in her eye before she left the room, now more confident.

Apparently Vitruvion was either not interested or too busy to care about the fact she was looking elsewhere to rest. That or he was not even listening into her thoughts which, though it was a rare occurrence, was possible. At the moment she was quite satisfied not to receive any commentary from him as she moved down the corridor.

Two doors, Zulon had said, and she lightly peered through one, finding a store cupboard, then another. In it was a low single bed, with cotton sheets and nothing grand. A small cabinet sat beside it with a small oil lantern that currently lit the room. Blinking, she rejoiced at the simplicity of it, and strode forwards into the room. Casually, she closed the door behind her, then headed straight for the bed. Onto it she collapsed right down, deliberately not thinking of anything, not stripping herself of any clothing. Stare fell onto her front, so her wings were in the air and she did not pause to pull the blanket over herself.

Instead she closed her eyes, and invited sleep to come. For rest was needed for her, in a day like the one she was having. In a night, especially when she had found her voice and will after seven long days. Slowly she began to breathe, and let sleep come, her voice now given.