7th of Fall, 517 AV
“Vanessa, you coming?”
Her voice was slightly strained as she leaned against the doorway of the Malt House, waiting for the brunette to join her outside. Rohka wasn’t even the one who sang tonight, yet her throat was tired all the same from cheering for her friend that evening. The sibyl loved her voice. Efforvescent, with a touch of melancholy. It could’ve only been a gift from the Gods, but the singer insisted that she wasn’t all that fabulous. “I’m an amateur! I need way more practise,” she’d say, her cheeks turning red. Roh would yammer sternly away at her until she finally got the woman to say “Okay okay fine yes, thank you, I’m amazing, yes,” and then they’d both grin at each other like fools.
Tonight though, things got a little out of hand - in Rohka’s opinion, at least. Vanessa sang a song that detailed the story of a man and woman who fell in love on a ravosala ride. The ladies loved it; the men chuckled. Grayson caught her staring expectantly as she walked over to him after the performance and shook his head, restraining his laughter.
“Cute song,” he praised, looking at her. Then he looked away, his eyes following the figure of a blond woman who’d just come into the House. “But that’s not love, kid,” he smirked at the singer while pouring a drink for a patron. Roh was pretty sure she knew what he meant, but refused to say anything.
Vanessa met a man on a trip to the Temple, and she’d fancied him ever since, pining about him for weeks. He apparently worked for the City Guard as a constable. They’d had a conversation that continued on into the Temple, and then she didn’t return to the Malt House for two days. When she came back, she’d been ecstatic. Yet the next day, she said she got a letter from him saying that he had to leave the city for a job at the Northern Outpost. Vanessa hasn’t been able to stop wondering about how he’s doing.
“What do you mean?” She asked the owner, her voice rising. “They connected, they bonded over their love for art and architecture, they… okay, what do you know about love, Grayson? You’ve never loved the same woman for more than two days!” The singer’s voice was close to shrieking, but she sounded more like the ringing of a tiny silver bell.
Grayson just grinned, then glanced at Roh, who returned the singer’s words with a fraction of a glare. “Come on Nessa, let’s go. If we leave now, we’ll catch the last service of the day,” said the sibyl, grabbing Vanessa’s arm.
Rohka contained her anger. She wasn’t sure who she was upset with, or why. She felt like Vanessa crossed a line, though; but the sibyl stopped herself from saying anything further. She just hoped her suggestion to head to the Temple would be enough to coax the woman out from under Grayson’s knowing, mocking, frustrating gaze.
“Fine. Go to Hai, Gray,” said the singer, the mousy grit in her tone causing him to smirk once more.
…
The two young woman hopped into a nearby ravosala and told the lady where they were heading. It would be a long ride to the Temple of the Black Sun, and the ravosalalady planned to carry at least a couple more passengers in her boat. They sat in silence for a chime before Vanessa scooted over to Roh, leaning her head on her shoulder.
“He’s never coming back, is he,” she sighed softly. Roh put an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. The sibyl’s chest burned with the embers of a fury she’d long forgotten, but she didn’t know how to comfort her friend with words of reassurance. She only wanted to tell her the truth.
The words that came to her weren’t enough. But it was all she could allow herself to say, for now.
“He’ll be fine.”
“Vanessa, you coming?”
Her voice was slightly strained as she leaned against the doorway of the Malt House, waiting for the brunette to join her outside. Rohka wasn’t even the one who sang tonight, yet her throat was tired all the same from cheering for her friend that evening. The sibyl loved her voice. Efforvescent, with a touch of melancholy. It could’ve only been a gift from the Gods, but the singer insisted that she wasn’t all that fabulous. “I’m an amateur! I need way more practise,” she’d say, her cheeks turning red. Roh would yammer sternly away at her until she finally got the woman to say “Okay okay fine yes, thank you, I’m amazing, yes,” and then they’d both grin at each other like fools.
Tonight though, things got a little out of hand - in Rohka’s opinion, at least. Vanessa sang a song that detailed the story of a man and woman who fell in love on a ravosala ride. The ladies loved it; the men chuckled. Grayson caught her staring expectantly as she walked over to him after the performance and shook his head, restraining his laughter.
“Cute song,” he praised, looking at her. Then he looked away, his eyes following the figure of a blond woman who’d just come into the House. “But that’s not love, kid,” he smirked at the singer while pouring a drink for a patron. Roh was pretty sure she knew what he meant, but refused to say anything.
Vanessa met a man on a trip to the Temple, and she’d fancied him ever since, pining about him for weeks. He apparently worked for the City Guard as a constable. They’d had a conversation that continued on into the Temple, and then she didn’t return to the Malt House for two days. When she came back, she’d been ecstatic. Yet the next day, she said she got a letter from him saying that he had to leave the city for a job at the Northern Outpost. Vanessa hasn’t been able to stop wondering about how he’s doing.
“What do you mean?” She asked the owner, her voice rising. “They connected, they bonded over their love for art and architecture, they… okay, what do you know about love, Grayson? You’ve never loved the same woman for more than two days!” The singer’s voice was close to shrieking, but she sounded more like the ringing of a tiny silver bell.
Grayson just grinned, then glanced at Roh, who returned the singer’s words with a fraction of a glare. “Come on Nessa, let’s go. If we leave now, we’ll catch the last service of the day,” said the sibyl, grabbing Vanessa’s arm.
Rohka contained her anger. She wasn’t sure who she was upset with, or why. She felt like Vanessa crossed a line, though; but the sibyl stopped herself from saying anything further. She just hoped her suggestion to head to the Temple would be enough to coax the woman out from under Grayson’s knowing, mocking, frustrating gaze.
“Fine. Go to Hai, Gray,” said the singer, the mousy grit in her tone causing him to smirk once more.
…
The two young woman hopped into a nearby ravosala and told the lady where they were heading. It would be a long ride to the Temple of the Black Sun, and the ravosalalady planned to carry at least a couple more passengers in her boat. They sat in silence for a chime before Vanessa scooted over to Roh, leaning her head on her shoulder.
“He’s never coming back, is he,” she sighed softly. Roh put an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. The sibyl’s chest burned with the embers of a fury she’d long forgotten, but she didn’t know how to comfort her friend with words of reassurance. She only wanted to tell her the truth.
The words that came to her weren’t enough. But it was all she could allow herself to say, for now.
“He’ll be fine.”
