For what seemed a long time, but was in fact seconds, the white-haired man watched. His breath came to nothing, his heart beat … paused. Hiccuped and then stopped as pure energy raged through his body, keeping it going. His mind began to race, blue eyes become twisting whirlwinds, remembering the last time someone had been this close. Last time he had been able to confess his true identity to someone. That someone, closer to him than anyone could comprehend …
Could he really? Nevin had just asked, in the same way that Raevin had done all those years ago, starting the two of them on a journey together that still had many years to go … Could he, as Vitruvion the god, actually admit … Was this a -
Suddenly he broke eye contact. The pain of so many years flooded into the man's face, strain and stress and horror. Many things flittered over it, including desire, hatred and scorn, but he rested on the same constant stress of the past one hundred years. Trapped in this damn body. Trapped in this damn body. Trapped …
He moved his hands off the desk and his hair fell across his eyes as he gored a death sentence into the wood before him. He whispered something barely audible.
“Less than I was.”
Well. That was…. Nevin swallowed. “I…. well. None shall learn of it from me. It isn’t much of an offer, but if I am ever in a position to help you…. I will see what I can do.” His voice was very soft.
Vitruvion did not speak. Instead he breathed out and briefly closed his eyes to murmur something on the wind. There was a twist in the air, a breaking of reality. A small pocket appeared in the atmosphere beside him and from somewhere else a figure came to be.
Stare. Stuck, suddenly in the room and looking very surprised, still in a position of slightly bending over. It took her a moment to gauge where she was. Her eyes darting around she took in Nevin, then the room and finally Vitruvion, her breath expelling from her lungs.
“I hate it when you do that,” she moaned, glaring at his slumped body, “I was just finishing-”
“Stare,” the white-haired man whispered tightly, but in a clattering, clicking tongue that was clearly her native language. “He knows.”
And suddenly then, her breath was back in. Her eyes grew massive, swinging around to take Nevin in. She drew herself in, tensing in that moment and quickly backing away from him, her dear friend, fearing, stunned, confused. Not knowing what would happen, or anything beyond that single fact she pressed herself to Vitruvion's side, hand automatically slipping down to grab her dagger’s hilt.
“It's not what it seems, Nevin,” she said fast. “I can't tell, we're not allowed to tell. It's the law. It's ...” She put herself before Vitruvion, protecting him.
