Closed Trepidations (Haneht)

[Haneht]

80, Summer 518av

Perhaps the alcohol was finally starting to set it. Haneht was feeling so, so strange, present but not there, numb yet in pain. What sorcery was this?

At having his hands held, gripped, seemed to settle something in him. The rising anxiety in him fell as quickly as it had risen, tidal wave of emotions retreating gently. Truly, nothing calmed his soul and soothed his rage more than another's touch. An affirmation, of his existence and worth. In a twisted sort of way, he was needed, and Haneht was more than willing to oblige. Words meant very little to him. It was actions that reached him, simple touches and caresses of warmth that screamed out loudest and with utmost clarity.

Even if there weren't any hidden messages or such pure intentions behind them.

Loss, guilt, realisation—he watched them all flicker in the Akvatari's melancholic gaze, a myriad of emotions he rightfully would not relate to on a normal day. Why was she so sad? What sort of lost innocence did she mourn?

Finally addressing him, the winged mystery's voice, when not tinged with fear or strangled out of her, was tragically beautiful. Like siren song, drawing him in with it's depth and strange allure. "Could—could carry you. I'm strong," he said, holding up six arms, few of which were seeping thin lines of scarlet through shredded sleeves. Contemplating for a while, amber oculi surveyed the area, scrutinising every shadow and faint flare of light. Where were they indeed. Haneht hadn't really kept track of his whereabouts since leaving from Mara's many chimes ago. In the blanket of the fog, it was nearly impossible to even see past his own hand, much less the environment. There was this strange feeling of Deja-Vu, and it took him a moment to recall his little adventure in Alheas Park too, when the season had been younger and he'd yet to go mad. Madder. "No, the boy admitted, strained sheepish smile surfacing into existence. And they couldn't stay, shouldn't, lest he really lost it, or better yet. a Zith came by to pick up a new slave.

Syna had begun making way for Leth's rising at some point, unbeknownst to the two, lost in their own world of foggy streets and blood for skies. With the transition of day to night, light to dusk, the stranger seemed to shift as well, horned butterfly emerging from a chrysalis of pale gold to silver. Or the reverse, seeing how her wings and tail disappeared, jade green horns like a crown atop a waterfall of midnight hair. A divine creature, much closer to the gods than his own. "Ethaefal," breath escaped him in awe at the marvel before him. What a privilege, to witness one transcend the boundaries between lives and world, mortal to immortal. The wound even healed, quite literally, overnight.

"Uh, was all the Eypharian could manage, grasping tightly to the fabric offered as asked. "I don't," and what a shame, because really, Ethaefals were such stunning, magnificent existences, a curiosity that no one could explain or begin to even unravel the existence of. Wordlessly, the brunet went to retrieve the dagger, by the blade rather than the creepy handle, and handed it back to her without a moment's hesitation.

What was he going to tell them? He wondered too, eyebrows pulling together in unvoiced worry and doubt. Would she... tell the truth? "I don't want to get in trouble," admitted the boy shamelessly, offering a hand—hands—and snaking one behind her for support as he hoisted her up to her new feet as quickly and gently as he could. Like ripping off a bandaid. He merely smiled in response when she inquired of his own wound; the cut by his neck that likely would leave behind a shiny pale line one day. "Barely feel it," the boy dismissed, pearly teeth taking to the vulnerable flesh of his liower lip. He looked to Mauriel, peering uncharacteristically timidly from beneath a row of dark lashes. "Will you tell on me?"

[Mauriel]

The boy revealed that he had no more idea where they were than she did. While perhaps hypocritical, she couldn't help but wonder what was wrong with him. He was aggressive and disoriented, a faint reek of alcohol obvious in his sweat. At least she had an excuse, she was flying, it's definitely easier to lose the track of your location while in the air with low visibility. Perhaps he was new to Lhavit as well? He didn't seem drunk enough to be confused otherwise, though the whole situation might have sobered him up.

She accepted the dagger by the handle, noting how the boy held it. It seemed considerate, so she wouldn't cut herself accidentally while gripping it by the blade if there was a sudden movement for any reason. Mauriel held Rage up, looking for any signs of guilt on his metallic face. Instead, she was met with a wide grin. "You finally stepped up," the dagger addressed her, "Maybe there is something to you after all." The Ethaefal didn't know an insult appropriate for the sort of disgust that hearing the remark painted on her face. Who imbued him with such a useless personality? He was shoved back into the scabbard and warned to zip it.

The brunet was being rather stoic about his injury, albeit is truly wasn't too bad. Before accepting the arms offering her support, however, she reached out with her right hand, the one she touched her wound with earlier, and gently traced his. She felt the same sort of thing, though unsure what it was, as his thin red line on his skin became a soft pink color of new, healing skin. The cut was apparently too think to clog very visibly outwardly, but on the soft skin of the neck it was certain to leave a mark. "Wow," she exhaled. She couldn't see the effects as clearly on her own wound, nor were they as pretty given its condition. "I had no idea I could do that. Leth has been more than generous with these forms he's awarded us." She made a mental note to ask around or read up on Ethaefal, wondering if there were more abilities she was unaware of.

She stood up, her muscles a bit weak and her throat still aching. She leaned on the brunet quite a bit, he really supported as much of her weight as was possible without actually carrying her. This was fine, tho, while she felt piercing pain in her wound with every step, it didn't seem to threaten to tear open.

When he asked her a question, the distraction was definitely welcome. Will she tell on him? She didn't know what to do. "Will you run off if I do?" she asked, offering him a smile. The joke was just buying time for the Ethaefal to consider her options. She could turn him in, yes. He seemed dangerous and unhinged by every metric. She should turn him in, or others might be hurt like she was. She could just use him to get to a healer and then reveal what happened. But then again, why was he helping her now? At the cost of his own reputation, maybe even freedom?

"Why did you do that?" She needed help for now. She wouldn't trade her life for others' by alienating the boy before she had somebody else to rely on. "You said you didn't mean to, but what does that mean? How can you attack someone without meaning to?"

What should she do?

[Haneht]

80th, Summer 518av

Had Haneht been in a better mood and state of mind, he no doubt would've found the talking dagger to be an amusing source of entertainment, and marvel over its mechanics in fascination. Now, however, he was more than happy to hear it shut up, mildly offended once he began to realise it was that animated piece of scrap metal who had insulted him by likening his features to an eight-legged sea-creature of lesser intelligence. And beauty. He promptly retrieved his own weapon as well, dusting it off before tucking it by his waist again.

As he helped her up, the Ethaefal reached out, and before he realised what was happening, traced the wound on his neck. The ghost of her touch lingered, a strange tickle that, upon inspection with his own hands, the Eyph found the cut not quite as fresh as it had been before. Almost as if she'd healed it, somewhat. Sped up the healing. There still was a scab, a thin line of red that faded to pink skin in the midst of healing and renewing.

"Wow," he mirrored her surprise. "To the Catholicon, ma'am? Or... Your own home, if you think you'd rather not have it looked at," Not quite advisable, considering she hadn't even cleaned that nasty-looking wound or gotten all of the fabric out yet.

"Would I? Haneht teased back. He himself, was not sure whether this called for a fight, or flight. He had literal blood on his hands, from where he'd pressed onto her wound clumsily without considering a possibility of contamination. But would she really turn him in? He wasn't quite sure how the laws worked in Lhavit, not when it came to attempted murder anyway. In Ahnatep, murder was a crime punishable by death. A life for a life. Attempted murder was not so severe, and punishment varied depending on how much money one could fork out sometimes.

"I—" The Lethaefal was confronting him now, bluntly addressing the elephant in the room. Or street. "It's possible. I attacked you, didn't I?" he pointed out, "And I really... I just didn't," Haneht swallowed thickly, gaze averting elsewhere. "I never mean to. Shame on him, to have allowed his emotions to get the better of him, ruin the mirage he'd spent years perfecting and weaving around himself to hide his true nature. He no longer knew what was going on, no longer had the control he'd deluded himself into believing he even had. Even this moment of peace, the reprieve shock and horror had given him by driving away the urges, did not feel permanent. He could probably just as easily revert, given enough stress, given another trigger. Perhaps this time, he would really end up taking a life.

But no matter how bad he felt about it, he refused to properly apologise or offer to take responsibility. Haneht had to be free. He couldn't be incarcerated, not when most of his childhood had already been like imprisonment. "Please don't. I won't do it again." Giving her his most pitiful puppy eyes, he held her hand gently in his, lifting it to his cheek. When all else failed... Well, Haneht would find a way somehow. And he was a creature of affections, after all, much more fluent in the language of touch and gestures than of tongue. "If you let me," his words took on a darker, more salacious tone, a lilt to it that suggested more than they ought to. Dark territory the brunet was more than well-acquainted with, the sea he willingly sank himself into the depths of as a habitual comfort. Haneht was, no matter what he insisted upon, troubled and afraid, and this was the only way he knew to deal with everything. "I'll make it up to you."

[Mauriel]

"The Catholicon indeed. I am no expert, but I think this ought to be cleaned," she said, a hint of disgust obvious in her voice. It was almost an insult to Leth to spoil his creation by this ugly dirty wound, like ink spilled over a masterful drawing. Hopefully it won't be too long before it's no more than a thin pale reminder of what had taken place.

She absently smiled at his tease, while pondering the questions she was to ask. The boy responded evading her in every sense. He diverted his gaze, and reiterated his previous excuses, which weren't much of an excuse at all. She frowned. She'd like to think he was making this more difficult than it ought to be, but truth be told perhaps a sweeter tongue would cause more suspicion.

Mauriel's face was lit with a smile when the boy dared be suggestive. She was in no mood for it, but it was her instinctive response to that kind of attention. The Ethaefal paused her walk, as she didn't have hands to spare holding onto the boy while tracing the silky skin of his cheek. She pondered entertaining his attempt openly, but opted to be more subtle. "Fine, I won't tell," she said, the smile still twisting the edges of her lips. "Though you should," she added. "What you did was dangerous and you don't seem too happy about it either. Perhaps the doctors could help?"

Aware that he was almost certainly going to evade that suggestion as well if she insisted on hearing his answer, she just changed the subject after a brief pause, leaning back on him to continue to walk, slightly more aware of their bodies pressing against each other after his remarks. "We should probably say we got attacked together. We're both distressed, so we don't have to go out of our way to act for that one. Invoking the Zith will probably needlessly alarm everyone, so perhaps just a bandit attacked us in the fog and stole my pouch. Oh, we don't actually know each other, you run into it happening and drove him away! That seems to coincide with the truth enough to be manageable to tell them convincingly." After all, they really didn't know each other.

She pulled two kina out of her skirt pocket. It was all she had on her, and she handed it to him. "I don't really have a pouch," she informed him, "but I'd better not have the supposedly stolen money either."

She stole a glance at him, plausibly looking for a reaction to her monologue. Or perhaps not so plausibly, if one bothered even briefly to read her expression. He was by no means hard to look at, elegant, with a pronounced jawline, and Syna-touched eyes. Tall, toned, and perhaps looking a bit elongated, he did have a somewhat intimidating physique. But both in his appearance and his guilty avoidance there was something childish, spoiled, spoiling it. Whether it was her mind truly being older than her mortal coil or her instincts telling her something was off, she felt bad about looking at him in such a way, so she turned back to face the pavement.

"Do you have a name? I'm Mauriel."

[Haneht]

80th, Summer 518av

How much did an adult female have to bleed to die, or for an infection to set in? Such thoughts traversed his mind as Mauriel decided where best to go. That cut was most certainly going to scar, though he supposed she was lucky enough that it was a neat enough line. The fan was still in mint condition.

Skin tracing skin, Haneht leaned into her touch as it smoothed over his cheek, feeling the unease settle. The woman was not angry, didn't despise him even when he told himself it was alright if she did resent him, that she would not be the first or last to curse at his existence. She would not tell, and the boy's youth and freedom would not be wasted away in incarceration. "No," he shook his head, adamant, "They can't help me. They likely could, a healer or therapist, but really it was more of the brunet who couldn't help himself. Convinced, that no one could really help him, that others wouldn't even begin to be able to understand him, his fears and irrationality and invisible wounds.

"I'm not distressed," Haneht protested as he fell into pace with her once more, and off they went again, on an adventure into the fogged streets of the skyglass city. The melancholic beauty, with the bewildering young man who, just moments ago had been incredibly violent and aggressive towards her. The exotic loon, with someone of similarly questionable rationality. For having been on the receiving end of a chokehold mere moments ago, she was surprisingly handling it fairly well. Unguarded, naive. They both were, really, though perhaps it made more sense to say that neither quite knew how to respond or behave in such a specific situation.

Well, she'd moved on more or less. Good on her. Dwelling on the past would change nothing, and Haneht knew that best.

The youth nodded in understanding as she explained the lie they would seek the healers under. A story not too suspiciously convenient and not exactly hard to believe either.

"I'm sorry," he finally apologised, husky voice barely more than a whisper as he forced those uncomfortable words out. "I'll pay for your treatment." He wordlessly took what remained of her currency, and made a note to himself to return her the two kina once this was all over with. Somehow, his advancements on her failed to resonate; all she'd done was merely smile and goad him onwards to another topic, though he was most grateful that she did not relentlessly pursue the matter.

Haneht learned of her name as they walked, eyes trained on their surroundings in hopes of finding some form of landmark, anything to clue him in on their current whereabouts. "Sure you won't give my name up?" the youth jested, some semblance of himself returning, if not an echo of it at least. Now with his mind more or less settled, composed in a way that involved heavy compartmentalising and squeezing all the bones back into his closet, he was able to think a little more, find that endearingly awful sense of humour o his. "I'm Haneht," offered the boy after a moment of hesitation. Mauriel would not tell, the Eypharian reminded himself. She said so.

Then he proceeded to lead them both on a wild goose chase for the next thirty chimes or so - he hadn't been counting, really - on a wild goose chase in search of the large tower. At some point, he would stop to offer Mauriel a place on his back instead, to ease the strain on her as well as speed up their search somewhat. Until, finally chancing upon another lifeform in the fog, the pair was directed right towards the Catholicon.

[Mauriel]

While walking around in the mist, Mauriel developed a headache to top everything off. She didn't need to start whining for Haneht to offer a place on his back, which she gladly accepted. She didn't even notice when she dozed off, but when she came back to her senses they were steadily climbing a long flight of long shiny stairs to a huge tower carved into a mountain peak. A pretty strange place for a clinic, she thought to herself.

When they finally entered, they were greeted by a receptionist woman. Mauriel got off from Hanehts back in order to show her wound, shaking her head a bit, unsure of what she was seeing. The receptionist woman also had four arms, and not just because of her sleepiness.

"Hello, I'm Rasika, I'm a receptionist at The Catholicon," she said, approaching her around the desk. She touched the Ethaefal's forehead with the back of her hand, excusing herself. "I was told to check for fever when admitting the wounded, because that might make it urgent. You should be okay to wait for a bit, a doctor will be with you shortly."

The woman went back to her desk, pulling out some sheet of paper. "Name?"

"Erm, Mauriel," the Ethaefal said.

She was met with a confused glance for a moment, before the receptionist mumbled, "Right, Ethaefal. Have you ever been a patient of The Catholicon before, Mauriel?"

"No, ma'am."

"Okay, I'll do your paperwork later so we have your history next time you come. Feel free to sit while you're waiting, I'm gonna go get the doctor when they're finished with the current patient. The treatment will be 2 kina if there's no complications, plus anything we may charge for the medicine if you want to buy it from us."

As they sat down, Mauriel thought about asking her companion what exactly the two of them were. One multi-armed creature was an anomaly, but two already started seeming like her own severe ignorance. She indulged, wanting to make conversation either way. "Is that woman of your culture as well? What are you called, I've never seen anyone like that before."

Not long has passed when a pale haired woman came, following a redhead man to the door, giving some medical advice on his way out. The reddish brown pale hair became way less interesting when her piercing red eyes turned to face Mauriel. What was it with odd creatures today?

"Hello. Mauriel, is it? I'm Alessia Amaryllis, I will be your doctor. I'll need to examine you for any rashes, so please follow me into a separate room."

The horned woman turned to face Haneht as she left, saying, "I'll be okay." She thought it'd be a nice touch to their pretending, though maybe a bit too exaggerated as they supposedly didn't know each other. Damn. She was bad at this. She mulled over what she had said anxiously as she walked with her doctor, who was silent.

A room they entered had an elevated bed by the wall, but she wasn't instructed to sit on it. "Sorry, but I'll need you to strip down." She repeated the earlier motion from the receptionist. "You don't seem to have a fever, though I'll take your temperature just in case."

Mauriel obeyed, quickly stripping almost naked. She had no lower undergarments due to her transformation. The blush in her cheeks revealed her embarrassment, but the doctor just nodded with a chuckle. "Nothing I ain't seen, hun. I suppose your earthbound form isn't very suitable for that?"

"I'm an Akvatari," she explained, grateful for the light tone, though it was still unbearably awkward.

The doctor worked quickly, examining her and allowing her to put her skirt back before taking her temperature. Mauriel took note of the interesting device she used to do that, though she had no idea how it worked. She was instructed not to move too much. "Listen, while we wait for the thermometer. How old is your wound?"

"A couple of bells," Mauriel replied. The doctors frown reminded her. "Though I think I've aged it or something? I touched it and it closed down and became like this. I have no idea how I did it."

"Oh, of course!" Alessia said. "Ethaefal have the ability to age any non-complex things a day with touch while their patron deity commands the sky. Really good for agriculture, but you folk never seem prone to that sort of work. Either way, I would have preferred if you didn't, the wound would be much easier to clean... I'm afraid that it's infected now, though your speedy recovery might have prevented it from spreading through the bloodstream. Either way, I'll have to remove the cloth before it becomes septic, so I'll have to cut in a bit. It'll be minor and I'll stitch you up in no time."

The Ethaefal was looking at some point behind the doctor, still trying to figure out the infection and her powers thing. "I'm sorry, but I really didn't understand most of what you've said there. You'll have to cut out the cloth from the wound and clean it basically, right?"

"That's right," she confirmed, "give me the thermometer." She looked at it, turning it a bit to see properly. "You're fine. Perhaps aging the wound wasn't so bad given that you couldn't receive immediate attention."

She pulled some clean cloth out of a drawer and brought a metal table near her, starting to clean a little scalpel with some strong-smelling mixture. "So who's to blame for this anyway? Would you maybe want to call the Shinya?" She seemed not to care too much, but was instead making conversation to try and distract the Ethaefal who was gulping, looking at the tools she was using.

"Erm, it was a group of bandits. The man who brought me here drove them away. I couldn't see much in the fog. I don't know would Shinya care, given that I can't give them a very good description?"

The doctor nodded. "Is that right?" Something in how she said that made Mauriel suddenly feel like this doctor was very trustworthy. Perhaps she should share what happened with her? Her confusion was duly noted as the piercing red eyes stared at hers, sending shivers down her spine. "In that case, I'll let them know, if you're sure there's nothing to add. Now, I could numb you, but unfortunately I can't do it for free. The herbs cost me money. This could be pretty painful, though, especially if the tissue is infected or healed significantly, so I'd advise using it. If you don't, I'll need you not to move. At all. Ideally stop your breath whenever I tell you."

The Ethaefal looked to the side, sighing. She was really broke, and about to be even more broke as she probably won't be able to work for a few days at least. Haneht said he'd pay, tho. "How much?"

"Let's see... A heldrog and tolm mixture should cost you 2GM and be quite potent. You may stay asleep after, tho, is that okay?"

"If I may stay here, or discuss it briefly with the man who saved me..."

She offered her a piece of paper to write down her address and promised to ask Haneht to take her home. If he would not, she'd let her sleep a bit there, before the drugs wore off.

She was soon lulled asleep after consuming the mixture, and did not remember anything after.

Haneht would be told what happened and offered her address, as well as advised to get her Rugberry tea and Krolar poultice if he was to take care of her, and said they were written under her address. The Catholicon sold them, but they were significantly more expensive there. He was also told to wash and clean her wound as regularly as possible without removing the scab and let her age it only when it's cleaned, and that if any yellowing appears or it starts to excrete pus that that's normal, so long as she doesn't develop a fever or rashes on other places of her body, in which case she should be urgently brought here. He was told that his own wound was really minor, though he could benefit from the products recommended to her as well.

While the conversation was pretty normal, there was something ominous in how the woman spoke to Haneht. It might have been a flicker in her red eyes, or undue emphasis here and there, but she was clearly suspicious, maybe even trying to intimidate. She finished with, "I'm really sorry for what happened to the two of you. We don't see much crime in Lhavit. I'll make sure to inform the Shinya. If you remember anything more than Mauriel, perhaps you'd like to testify?"

Upon wrapping up the conversation, he'd be billed for the total of 4 kina and allowed to leave.

[Haneht]

80th, Summer, 518av

Adulthood eluded him sometimes. Most times. He hadn't had any good experiences with them, never liked the ones he had grown up knowing. Perhaps that was why he stayed the way he was, even when his shoulders broadened and voice deepened, grew into manhood physically but never mentally. Spiritually. Or, perhaps he was truly but that much of a dunce. Regardless, it was nice to not have to deal with the various responsibilities of one. He supposed at his age, he could still pass off as an adolescent, a pre-young-adult of sorts.

Yet eventually, his actions would catch up to him. The daydream ceases, his make-believe world shatters. All good things were bound to end. Haneht had done many, many awful things, and they were all catching up to him, relentless pursuits slowly coming to fruition one sin at a time. Come to bite him in the arse. The exact burdens he never wanted to shoulder, obligations and music he'd never wanted to face, and the weighed him down so heavily; body, mind and soul. One such weight was at present, dozing peacefully on his back, pale and light. Eventually, it seems, even he must answer to his misdeeds.

His mind remained uncharacteristically sharp and present, as in, truly present, as Mauriel was handed over to the healers' care. He did not drift or wander the halls of both his mindscske and Catholicon, and would be look back to this moment the seriousness he displayed would likely shock even himself. Mauriel, it seemed, was more of a child than he was at present. Curious. Innocent. Revoltingly and truly naive, untainted. He smiled. "She is. Beautiful, aren't we? Divine children of a most sacred coupling. Descendants of the river guardian Royet, and the beauty Eypha." The spiel had long been ingrained in him, indoctrinated. Another with more than your usual one pair of arms. Here he'd thought he and Hessel had been then only ones in Lhavit. "We are Eypharians. Our arms are proof of our ancestry, and it's very uncommon for one to have only a pair. Most of us dwell in Eyktol, Ahnatep especially. Beautiful city. You should visit sometime," boasted the young man. No doubt, with her exquisite looks, she would be so adored. And envied. Like stepping into a viper's nest. There were actually vipers too, in the city itself and a Dhani nest not too far away from home.

"I will wait here," the boy offered a wry smile as she left, reassuring words doing anything but. Run. Run now, his mind screamed. Leave this place, leave Lhavit.

And go where?

"Ahnatep? Long ways from home, aren't we?" The receptionist addressed him, Arumenic rolling off her tongue so fluently. "Indeed, Rasika" The wary stare he received was met with a haughty smize, arrogance and pride endearing only to the Eypharian duo whose daily interactions were full of them. "Yanne misses you." He relayed, and they both went quiet as they reminisced their faraqay home and the family and friends they'd left behind. He didn't know Rasika, personally, but Haneht had heard his sister speak fondly of their friend, and in his childhood had perhaps seen her around a handful of times.

A few moments later, Mauriel sent a note for him, and he wasn't quite sure if he wanted to laugh or curse his poor luck. They lived in the same area. The estates, of course. "I'll pay for her and take her home. Safely." The irony of it all. The doctor was unnervingly astute, and Haneht wondered if Mauriel had gone back on her word, broken her promise and tattled on him. She knew
The healer knew. How? He hadn't meant to hurt anyone. Calm. Keep calm. Haneht was a good liar, difficult to intimidate, and it wouldn't do to fail now. "I'm afraid I won't be much help either. I couldn't see much. Too much fog, too hectic" he explained with a charming smile, waving a hand before his eyes in emphasis. The healer remained unconvinced, but did not push further, to his relief. "Please take good care of her." And true to his word, he remained for the entire duration of her treatment.

Night saw him carrying the sleeping Ethaefal on his back once more, on a long, quiet walk back to estates, where his load was unceremoniously dumped onto her bed and clumsily tucked in, before the Eypharian took to sitting on the floor by her bedside. He stared, and stared, until he too unwittingly joined her in slumber, soft breathing synchronizing with her own.

Note:-4GM for treatment and herbs/medicine

[Mauriel]

As Haneht went on about his heritage, Mauriel couldn't help a small chuckle that escaped her. It wasn't for the lack of belief in his praises, for both him and Rasika here were very good looking, but the pride in his voice as he talked was very endearingly silly. "Royet and Eypha?" she further inquired. She's never heard of either. It sounded so unusual for Gods to sire mortal races, yet she could see it being the case. Perhaps they did so more often than she realized, given the variety of Mizahar's sentient world. "I'd love to visit one day," she said, and not as a platitude. She wanted to travel all over the world, and Eyktol and Ahnatep were undoubtedly stops along that journey, though she was unsure where they were or how should she reach them. Luckily, if she kept safe, she had an immortal's lifespan to play with, so whichever the case, eventually she could see the beauty that made the boy's eyes shine with pride.

---

Bells later, the Ethaefal was torn from the dreamlands by something or another. The effect of drugs and her own strain upon her body wore off, and given that this form didn't truly need sleep, it refused to continue to sleep now. Groggy and confused, she looked around, only to be met by a brunet's face. He was sleeping sitting down before her bed. Haneht? Her heart raced. What was she doing letting this maniac into her house? But then again, he has been but kind since their unfortunate exchange. She tried standing up. Her head was fuzzy, perhaps a residual effect of the drugs. She needed moonlight. Whatever the time was, she wished she got more before dawn.

Ready to go outside, she wondered what to do with the stranger in her house. Should she wake him? Tuck him in? She opted for wrapping the blanket around him before going into her front yard, and just sitting down on the ground, resting her back against her cottage. She pulled up her sleeves and rolled up her skirt, allowing the moonlight to touch her bare skin, yet preserving a semblance of modesty. She wondered what a random passerby might think of this, yet she felt so reinvigorated by the soft tingle of Leth's rays that she wasn't ready to give that up now.

[Haneht]

80th, Summer 518av

In the limbo of time between Mauriel going under and their return to the Okomo estates, Haneht allowed himself to drift away into cjildish fantasies. What a day it had been. He needed something to soothe himself, distract his mind with. Mauriel had ignored his earlier advances, to his dismay, and he doubted that in the fog, he would be able to find someone else. Hell, he didn't even wat to look for anyone else, now that he thought about it. At this point, the Eypharian may very well end up killing the next stranger he met. So he turned to thinking of his culture instead. Of Royet and Eypha's romantic tale, of how his sisters and the young ladies of Ahnatep swooned and sighed even when they listened to retellings of the pair of lovers. How the river spirit so valiantly rescued and freed his human lover Eypha from tyrannical, ill-meaning men. His exotic race, born and descended of their direct offspring. It was still a mystery to the boy, how it had been possible for a single lineage to give rise to an entire new race so large in numbers that even the Valterrian had failed to wipe them out completely. How nice would it be, to perform their story on the stage at the Ethereal?

On the path towards their estate, he wondered what it was like to be immortal. To be able to elude Dira's reaping for all eternity and then some. Of course, he knew, that Mauriel's immortality did not mean invincibility. It was still possible to kill an Eth, more so when they were in their mortal forms. Not having to age, not to mention an unlimited lifespan... The only problem was having to watch people around die one by one, be it of old age or prematurely. What a lonely life they had been condemned to, that Mauriel had been condemned to. Ethaefal were such displaced creatures. No history, no memory prior to their fall, and they were no longer cradled in the bosom of whatever God's domain they had fallen from. With these thoughts in mind, he felt the slightest of pity towards the melancholic existence he'd just attacked, and was thus convinced to at least stay by her side until she awoke.

He hadn't expected to fall asleep, however, unaware that the recent events had taken their toll on him as well. If the bags beneath his eyes and slightly paler-than-usual pallor weren't obvious enough signs, the way he slept so soundly despite being a light sleeper would be proof enough. The brunet didn't even so much as stir, when the Akvatari-Ethaefal he was meant to watch over crept out of bed and slipped into open air, tucking a blanket over him in a very considerate gesture.

He did, however, eventually stir, harshly yanked put of blissful oblivion when recent nightmares returned. A dreadful creature tormented Haneht in his dreams, multiple inky arms attached on a melting black body, a face that constantly morphed from one familiar mug to another. People he loved, people he used to love, those that he didn't, those that he used to satisfy his own selfish needs without so much as a second thought. It continued, a seemingly endless rotation of faces that summoned various memories rom the depths of his twisted mind, until he was staring into that of his father's, a man whose usually tan skin had lost its beautiful golden hue with the sudden illness that wrecked him. Only, it hadn't been an illness.

"Ungrateful child," Utahk accused, purple lips rotting and veins bulging beneath his skin. The whites of his eyes were sickly yellow, and despite the frailty he had been in in his final moments, Haneht still remained fearful of his father. "Murderous bastard." It hissed and spat at him. But he remembered how his sister and her lover had been wronged, how his mother and unborn sibling died for his father's foolish cause, the miserable childhood they all had had, and that fury and indignance fueled him enough to overcome that fear. "I'm not afraid of you, Father" Haneht spat back just as viciously, confident, arrogant as he stared boldly into the creature's face with wild eyes.

Then suddenly, he was met with a woman's image. Big eyes, dark auburn hair, features that he could find in his own daily reflection in the mirror.

In the waking world, he choked and jolted awake, gasping and breaking out into cold sweat. Retreating into the cocoon of warmth and security that someone had drape around him, him wrung at the bracelet on his arm, willing his best to cease it's loud pounding in his ears. The small cottage seemed too big, too empty, and he quietly padded outside in search of Mauriel, somewhat relieved to find another living, breathing person around.

He abandoned the blanket on the chair somewhat reluctantly, and silently joined the woman outside, brow quirking up at the sight of her baring whatever skin she could to Leth. Was this her way of offering herself as a sacrifice of some sorts? Asking for Leth, or whatever God that was listening, to come accept this sacrifice and end Haneht's life in exchange?

"Bit dark for a tan, isn't it?"

[Mauriel]

Mauriel had spent perhaps a bell sitting like that alone before she would be interrupted. She was reliving tonight's events, endlessly confused about her own feelings. Why was her would-be murdered wrapped in a blanket in her cottage right now? Did she take pity on the wretched soul? Or was she trying to harm herself vicariously, allowing somebody so destructive into her life? Was she honoring Leth's gift or desecrating it by doing this?

And yet something about the boy couldn't be shaken off. She was afraid that she was rationalizing her unhealthy feelings, but she just couldn't help feeling like there was more and she dug deeper in her mind, trying to find out what it was that caused this unholy affection she felt. What was it about the boy that attracted her so?

And then it hit her, like a summer storm, it's been pressing against her chest for bells now, and when it finally poured down on her, the mixture of intense feelings was hard to bear. Guilt. It was his guilt. At that moment, when she pleaded for her life, she saw a flicker of herself in his amber eyes, an image of what it was like to be her, on the inside, beyond all of the pretty decoration, singing voice, and grandiose dreams. And she did what she wished somebody did for her. She forgave. She denied it to herself because she couldn't understand why she'd do something as outrageous as forgiving an onslaught on what she held most dear, her new life, but she did, she wouldn't be as crazy as to let him sleep in her house wrapped in her blanked if she didn't.

She indeed heard the commotion inside, clenching of teeth and faint whimpers, obvious signs of a nightmare haunting the boy. But she had troubles of her own to work through, so she just cried listening to him in the background.

With the realization, tears came, as well as a struggle to keep as quiet as possible so she would not wake her companion or any of the neighbors. And long before he awoke, they dried on her cheeks and neck, leaving but a salty trace, impossible to notice.

And eventually he woke up, and stumbled out to greet her. She laughed at his remark very sincerely, but explained in case he didn't know. "Moonlight sustains me, like food or water would with you. I feel way better already." While she didn't do anything unusual or show it in any particular way, she had a feeling that a clarity of her feelings towards him was evident in her demeanor. Though it might have been only clear to her.