Helping out with the maintenance of the orphanage was... well, staying in any one place for longer than a few days was different, something Del hadn't done since her time with her mentor in the Crescent Isles. The novelty of consistency was such a change of pace, even though it had only been a couple of days since that fateful meeting with Cyran in the marketplace, that the concept of a routine was exciting. Putting down roots and setting up a shop seemed like a bit of a pipe dream still, but at least now she had a taste of what that was like.

And then, of course, there was Cyran.

She'd never met anyone quite like him, that much she knew to be true. Del watched as she worked; Watched him care for the children of the orphanage, give them warmth and gentle discipline and care. Ensured that needs were met beyond the bare minimum, observed quiet moments of internal wrestling that she could not discern, but noted. He worked a lot. He worked hard. She admired that. She also knew what it meant to be the anchor to such a big ship.

Looking down at her own hands, with sawdust under her nails and scuffed knuckles, that she was probably guilty of the same. The difference was that she had been alone for a long time-- alone in the sense that she travelled by herself and stayed with no one when she reached a destination. Her job wandering Charon, fixing things, was providing those objects and repairs for others that they could not otherwise get. While it could be daunting to be so solely focused, she could see how rare it was that Cyran himself got a break.

Though... would be lying if she said if her time here, so far, wasn't pleasant as well. There was her vocation, sure, but she found herself looking for extra things to do, adding to the list of things to make and repair, to help her stay longer. Cyran was not unlike a damascus dagger; practical, sharp, refined, and... fascinating. Always, endlessly, curious about others, Del was very curious about this man who she seemed to share such similarity with. The shadows were one thing, but there were other things, the way they both carried themselves, the internal sense of readiness. That, she could see. That, she figured Cyran could also see.

There was yet more, too, she was certain. But, between her helping with repairs and Cyran's own schedule, they hadn't had a lot of time yet to speak at length, one thing or another usually cutting conversation short, like a child with a knee in need of bandaging, a broken cupboard, or an errand. Which was fine, of course, running an orphanage had to be as hectic as it was rewarding. That brought her back to her thoughts of when on earth this man got a chance to take a break. Maybe... she could faciliate both.

The thought brought a tautness to her sternum that she felt confused by. It was. Curiosity. Interest. Like minds and people were so rare. She did enjoy his company and did want to get to know him, but she wanted merely to make sure he got in some time to be Cyran, not only everyone's anchor.

At the end of her task, approaching the late afternoon, Del stood back removing a cloth from her tool belt to wipe her hands free of the linseed oil she had applied to the new bannister, looking proudly at her work. There was a delicate grove that ran along the sides of the rail that provided some extra traction, so small hands wouldn't lose their grip so easily. The oil shouldn't take long to set. Now, she could see what else might need to be done, if there was anything. Turning, ignoring that tight feeling again, she went to look for Cyran.

Having a guest around the orphanage brought an entirely different feeling to the place.

It was… difficult, at times, to find comfort in a home coated in ash where the sun rarely shined, and criminal dangers lurked around every corner, but not for lack of trying in Shade’s Valley. Cyran had done his best to turn this place into a home, and in a way, he had. Darkveil was homely in a way an especially churlish cat showed its affection - sparsely, and often accompanied with claws. But Cyran would be damned if his kids weren’t happy, warm, and sequestered away from the troubles of the world. He hung fake stars from the ceiling, and put birdfeeders in their windows. Anything he could to give the kids just a bit more happiness.

But another adult presence around the orphanage… was a different matter entirely.

To be honest, though Cyran had adult friends, they were few and far inbetween, a number he could count on his fingers. Even if one didn’t take his longer lifespan into consideration, he was still older than most of his friends and acquaintances on a mental level. Rarely did he get the chance to speak with someone his own age - a fact that was woefully apparent throughout the brief conversations he and Del managed to share over the past few days that had been spent in Shade’s Valley while she made repairs around the building.

Secretly, his lack of conversational skills or social smoothness made him a bit embarrassed. Del was a lovely conversationalist, and had a strong voice that wasn’t afraid to speak her thoughts and opinions into existence. They’d spoken little… but he’d heard a lot, and Cyran knew he wanted to hear more. Not just about their shared commonality, but about Del herself. Her question from a few days ago still haunted him, bouncing around in his mind as he went about his own daily chores. When was the last time you did something for yourself?

He couldn’t remember, and that troubled him.

Cyran had a feeling Del understood, though. There was a set in her jaw and weariness in her shoulders that spoke of a tendency to take on the burdens of others, to throw herself into their troubles until her own had been tucked neatly into the shadows, to be ignored until they were piled too high. He suspected as such because he recognized the look she often wore as one he saw in the mirror. And yet, she’d taken to helping make repairs around the orphanage as if this one extra small weight on her shoulders meant nothing - Del carried it all with grace and a smile as she went about the work of fixing shelves and cracks in the walls with expert hands.

Cyran admired her, honestly.

He needed to find a way to pay her back for all that she’d done for him. It was no easy feat running a place like this… but that was something he’d signed up for when he opened it. It was not fair to Del for him to lean on her any more than necessary, not when he desperately hoped that she extend the same kindnesses to herself that she had to him. To put down the carpenter’s tools down and just be Delaela, if only for a moment. Those that walked with one foot in both worlds, who had been touched by the shadows, did not often get to experience the kindnesses of the world. It… changed them, fundamentally, until there was only one path they could walk.

That much, he understood.

But perhaps the two of them could find a moment to step into the light together… if only for a brief moment.

With that in mind, Cyran picked himself up from the wall he had been in the middle of painting. With the influx of new children he’d had, he’d needed to start making preparations on a new room for some new kids that would be moving in within the next few weeks. Setting the brush delicately down on top of the can, he wiped some of the sweat off his brow, smudging a bit of cream-colored paint against the side of his face as he did so. The preparations were mostly complete - all that was left was for Cashmere and Cypress themselves to move in. But that would come later. For now, perhaps he would seek out Del, and see if she wanted to… take a break together.

He wasn’t sure why that thought made him so nervous.

It took only a moment for him to step into his office and change out of his paint clothes into something more casual before making his way to the stairs, where Del had just finished applying a new coat of oil. He brightened when he spotted her, waving even though she’d definitely already spotted him, then cursed himself for his awkwardness. “Ah, Del, I was looking for you.” He said after taking a moment to compose himself. That was a much better greeting, he hoped.

Well, here goes nothing.

He steeled himself, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve as he spoke next. “I’ve almost finished for the day - the only task I have left is making a run to the post office. And, well, the weather is nice…” As nice as it could be in a place like Darkveil, at least, “And I figured it would be nice to step away for a bit. You’ve already done so much around here, the last thing I’d want is for you to overwork yourself. I’d love it if you accompanied me for a walk.”

Gods, was that too forward? There was no taking it back now that he’d asked. He still felt that same odd anxiety from earlier as he awaited her answer, and utterly unsure as to why. It was just a walk, for Lunala's sake.

Her foot was set to carry her stride up the stairs, one foot already planted on the bottom step when Cyran appeare at the top of the stairs. She breaks into a smile, pleasantly surprised to find him just as she had gone to look for him herself. "Cyran, good--" Del looked towards the windows outside-- late afternoon, or so it appeared. The day had gotten away on them, it seemed. "--afternoon! I just finished up with the bannister." The next words get caught for a moment around her tongue, unsure of how to proceed for a moment. Just up and ask, or... wait. She blinks. He had been looking for her?

Amber eyes flicked, noticing him toy with his sleeve, and back to his composed expression. The odd, tight feeling increased a little, as he offers. Part of her is flabbergasted; his thoughts had echoed her own, it seemed. Or, perhaps hers had echoed his. Either way, they'd been thinking along the exact same lines, and that level of coincidence left a bright sensation of reverberation within her, not unlike prisms scattering the same light into different hues. "I-- oh!" She laughs, and that seems to loosen up her tongue, removing her working apron to fold it carefully and set it aside. "It's like you read my mind. You have perfect timing. Thank you, I would love to take a, ah, break-- walk with you."

Inwardly, she cursed herself for the verbal trip, a tinge apparent in her skin. Words. Gods damned words. It was a walk, she walked all the time, they walked to get here, and this was a walk for a little errand. A small thing.

Why did it feel so big, then?

Before she can make it any worse by overexplaining herself, she clears her throat and takes a step up the stairs, offering a little bow. Maybe she could cover for that by being light hearted about it. "It would be my pleasure to accompany you. Shall we?" She lifts her head, smiling crookedly. While it was entirely sincere, maybe a little levity would take the uncertain, awkward notes out a little.

Though, she realizes much to late, upon reflection sometime later, that doing so drew some paralells between her little bow and geuinely awaiting someone on the staircase to escort them out for an event, or a walk. All that was missing were fine white gloves that she definitely did not own, and a swallowtail coat, which was not at all present, with her arms bared for ease of her work-- the sincerity had been there, after all.

She straightens, and steps back down to wait for him, the same soft smile pulling her lips. "I've been in the city a handful of times, but I haven't seen it at any great length. My work keeps me on the road very often." That felt safe enough to volunteer, something to break the ice. Not that anything had felt particularly icy in any stretch of the imagination. Far from it, in fact. "How are the rooms coming along?" She nods up the steps toward where Cyran had been for much of his day.

Cyran was relieved he hadn’t interrupted Del in her work, at least. The last few days of careful observation when he managed to get to watch her work had revealed that she threw herself into whatever work she was involved in with blazing passion and care for her craft. He would feel awful if he interrupted her in the middle of something. He briefly turned his attention to the banister, pleased to see its shine, the effort it had taken to appear as such reflected on her hands. “It looks great.” He praised. “Better than it did when I fixed this place up.”

Having Del around, he’d found, only served to make him even more grateful for the time and work that went into carpentry. Oh, he’d done his best to fix this place up when he bought it, but passion could only carry the inexperienced so far. Del was a master craftsman, and with her work, Shade’s Valley had begun to look even more to put together than it had when he first opened it.

He hid another nervous laugh behind his hand as Del expressed the same sentiment, unsure why he felt so nervous around her. Something about Del made him feel oddly… seen, even when she wasn’t looking. It was all too easy to fall into a rhythm with her, a cadence all of their own, without even thinking. It seemed that they had fallen into that same resonance once more. “Great minds think alike, or so I’ve heard.” He managed to joke, though it felt like a hummingbird was hammering against his ribcage as he did, and the sensation grew when she accepted. “Good, good. A break from the chaos is always appreciated. I find it helps me clear my head.”

Despite the anxiety in Del’s words, she seemed nothing but genuine as she dipped into a small, almost playful bow, reminding Cyran of old nights at spent at galas where he would watch his father treat his mother the same way when she would descend down the stairs in her chosen gown of the evening. There was no love in the action - rather, formality - but on instinct he found himself extending a hand for her to take all the same, before realizing that the notion was ridiculous and entirely untoward. Instead, he awkwardly moved to tuck his hand in the pocket of his trousers, flashing Del a nervous smile.

Neither were dressed in ballroom finery, and they were far away from Eclipse City, but at that moment, Cyran couldn’t help but feel swept away all the same as Del stepped aside to let him pass. He took his place by her side, smoothing out his casual shirt while he listened to her speak. He remembered her saying as much the other day, that she often found herself traveling. “I understand. My work often takes me out of the country - ah, I mean…” He bit his lip as he suddenly realized his folly. He’d been so comfortable around Del that he’d somehow let his barriers slip, forgetting that she didn’t truly know what he did for a living.

“My job… outside of taking care of Shade’s Valley, I mean. I’m a hunter.” He fell back on the old partial-truth, one that he’d used plenty of times in the past. He was not a good liar, and found the idea of doing so to Del felt like a disservice. But he could not bring himself to be fully honest, to lay himself fully bare and vulnerable in front of her when it would mean earning her hatred. Del was a good person. Cyran was… not.

It was not entirely a lie, at least. But rather than hunting game, he simply tracked down wayward humans.

The thought briefly made him despondent before he covered it up with a smile, tired edges at the corners of his eyes betraying his weariness. Now was not the time for such melancholic thoughts. Right now, he was merely Cyran, ready to show Del the good parts of Darkveil, few and far between as they were. She didn’t seem to have the highest opinion of the city, and rightfully so. Living in Darkveil forced you to sharpen your edges as a defense mechanism - kill or be killed. Even just looking at her, it was obvious from her coiled muscles and stance that Del could handle trouble, but it was no secret that Darkveil was brimming with danger. But there were pockets of happiness and beauty, hidden under layers of ash if one knew where to look. Cyran wanted to show her.

Er, after delivering the mail, that was.

“The city may seem overwhelming at first.” He agreed. It certainly was to him when he’d arrived. It was only thanks to Iryla’s knowledge of the streets that he’d managed to gather his bearings when he first arrived. “But I can show you some landmarks to look out for. So you won’t get lost for as long as you’re here, that is.” And perhaps even future visits, if there were any.

He hoped there would be.

“The room is coming along just fine.” He replied. “I’m nearly done putting everything together. It should be ready for Cypress and Cashmere to move in over the next few days. And I’m sure they’ll love what you made for them.”

He led her to the door, holding it open for her as the two made their way to the ash-covered streets. There was still a light dusting bearing down on them, a facsimile of snow, but Cyran was protected by his cloak. Del, on the other hand, was not. She was still in her work clothes, arms unprotected from the elements. Without a second thought, he shrugged off his own cloak and offered it to her to wear. “Here, take this.” Even without it, he would still be protected by long sleeves from the ash.

The two made their way down the streets at an unhurried pace. There seemed to be an odd number of couples out, he noted, though he couldn’t place why. The silence felt comfortable, far less stilted than it had upon their first meeting. After a couple of minutes simply enjoying the mostly-fresh air, Cyran turned to Del with a curious expression on his face. “You say you’re well-traveled because of work. What’s your favorite place you’ve ever visited?”

Unable to help but beam at the praise, the heat in her skin increasing. There had been a little awkward hand movement, almost like Cyran had partially extended it for just a second before tucking the errant gesture into his pocket. Maybe just adjusting his sleeve. Surely. She felt silly for the twitch in her own fingers, stopped before she could unconciously reach back out in response. Despite the lack of contact, her hand tingled.

"You actually did a very decent job! Most of the repairs I've had to make have been from normal wear and tear, or from the original wood product itself needing replacement. I've seen some pretty abyssmal excuses for construction, your previous work doesn't even come close." She manages to laugh. There. Good.

Falling into step beside him, Del returns the small smile, feeling a little nervous herself. Almost jittery, which was strange. Normally, jitters were more like a persistent, negative apprehension, but here it felt... positive. She barely knew what to do with it. Nothing to do, surely, with the fact that they were walking side by side, in close proximity. "I agree. Little walks outside are a nice way to decompress, especially after a long day being bent into a weird shape while you're working." Turning her head to look at Cyran as he talks, she finds herself looking over his features as he spoke-- and seemed to mispeak? He had bitten his lip, that she had noticed.

Her head tilts at a slight angle as Cyran seems to catch himself. There's no judgment in the gaze, only quiet interest. She does catch a little obscuration there-- maybe just the shadow in her, in them both-- but she does not draw attention to it. Of all people, she knew how complicated those things could be; she was a carpenter, a smith, but she was also running from something she did't entirely understand, something that she maybe deserved to be pursued for. That was a hard thing to explain to anyone, let alone out in the open streets of Darkveil when who knew who might be listening. She knew that if she explained to him, for instance, why she was always on the move... well, there was a non-zero chance she would no longer be welcome at Shade's Valley. It was risky to allow someone who attracted danger to them like a magnet around children, around a good, sincere person like him. She figured she would be safe for now; if she wasn't, she would tell him, without hesitation, of course. But it was nice to just be Del for a change. That was something she wanted to give him, too.

"That makes sense, and sounds like a good reason for travel. Does it keep you away often?" Del enquires, following that safe path for that moment. One thing at a time-- it took so much trust and comfort to bring a shadow into the light.

That alone made her feel more secure in this place. A quiet chuckle emanates from her throat, as she gives him an appreciative smile. Her stomach does a flip. "I'd love that. Most of my trips here have been short lived, but I keep coming back. It would be wonderful to see this place through your eyes and see what it is I've been missing."

Stepping out into the streets as Cyran held the door for her, "Thank you," she nodded, smiling-- was a state of perpetual ash, folks going to and fro about their business. A little busier tonight than she had noticed previously, but then, she didn't typically stay in Darkveil this long. She doesn't focus so much on that, though, finding herself looking to Cyran as he talks about the room. She breaks into a smile, excited for him, and these new additions. Cypress and Cashmere. "I hope so! When you mentioned them, I was thrilled to give my best shot at something they might enjoy. They sound like a pair of sweethearts, truly."

While she spoke, Del could not help but observe, now that they were properly walking. He was also around her age, she could tell-- Cyran had retained so much of his elvish youth, a refined, bladed and well honed, but there were signs. The weariness, the delicate silver around his temples, the barest hint of where smile lines would appear.

...Oh, gods, was she staring? She blinks and turns her gaze to the street for a moment. It's at that moment she notices as well that there are an inordinate number of pairs walking around-- couples? Del doesn't wonder at that too long, before returning her gaze to Cyran, as he removed his cloak, offering it to her.

It's such a gallant gesture, it catches Del completely off guard. Had anyone ever offered her their cloak to wear? She was certain that the answer to that was no. This man was literally here giving her the cloth off of his back, without so much as a second thought. She wasn't cold, but still, Del felt shaken.

That... wasn't a bad thing, she found.

"You-- I-- are you sure?" Del asks, taking the cloak and draping it around her shoulders despite her uncertainty, clearly flustered by the gesture. And also deeply appreciative. She turns her face toward his to give him the warm smile that blooms there, accepting and relenting. "That's, ah. Very kind. Thank you, Cyran." It was still warm from where it had been draped across his shoulders, she noticed.

She enjoyed the companionable silence as they walked, taking their time. Normally her pace was brisk, but if this was to be a break, then she was all together too happy to simply enjoy this moment. Del glances over again as Cyran "Oh, that's a good question..." She thinks on that for a couple of seconds. "Hmmm. I think the Coldwood, in the Frost Gale? There's not much work to be found in the area, but there is this... serenity and presence that I like. Presence like being in the present moment, not worried about the future." Or the past. "In the coldest months, you can see auroras moving across the night sky like ribbons. Have you ever been that far North?" She asks, looking his way again.

He could not hide his embarrassment at Del’s appraisal of his work. It was entirely possible she was just placating him, but as always, her words seemed honest. She did not sugarcoat things - she simply said what she believed to be truth… in this case, that Cyran had done his damnedest to hold this place together with hands that had never attempted to pick up carpenter’s tools in earnest before it had been necessary to keep this place running. “I… thank you.” He murmured. She didn’t need to tell him he had no skill at the job. The only thing Cyran had was the desire to try his best for those that needed him, and that had to be enough for them. It was all they had.

But Del had come in and brought something entirely new with her.

Once more, the two found themselves falling in step without having to think much about it. Cyran could feel Del’s eyes on him from his momentary slip-up - she didn’t seem to entirely buy his words, or at the very least, knew there was something wrong with them. Was her keenness something she carried with her, or something that was reserved especially for Cyran? It must have been just as easy for her to read him as it was him to read her, a thought as frightening as it was welcoming. Scary, because he feared her disdain when she learned he really was no different than common criminals in Darkveil. But despite the halting uncertainty in his words, Del didn’t push on that nagging feeling of hers.

Their acquaintanceship was too soon to dig into dark secrets that neither was quite willing to share. Yet.

Not while they existed in this bubble of… well, the only word Cyran could find for it was peace. Perhaps those dark and heavy thoughts would come later, when he could fully allow himself to trust Del, and trust that she would not hate him for what she learned. Relief flooded him when she innocently pursued that line of conversation.

“More than I like, but not anything that I am unaccustomed to. I’d only been back from a trip to Dragon’s Cradle for a few days when I met you.” He explained. “While I’m gone, Rhi’as and Eleanor-“ Del had been introduced to Oriole and Andromeda by their birth names, rather than their aliases used while on the job- “Take care of the kids, if they’re not accompanying me.”

They were outside now, Cyran making sure that the door was secure behind him. Andromeda was around should anything happen, but Cyran still worried. Tucking the mail into his trouser pocket, the two set off down the street.

“I’m still learning myself.” Cyran admitted when the topic shifted to showing Del the beautiful parts of Darkveil. Truth be told, as new as he was, he still didn’t know much. But he could show her the quiet places he went when he needed to think, or the teashop he often frequented after a long day… or perhaps the shop he went to when he needed to go buy art supplies for Iryla and ten-solar romance novels for himself. There were small pockets, if you knew where to look, and if he fell short, then they would have the chance to find new places together, perhaps. That thought filled him with a cautious sort of happiness, a thrumming excitement that carried him as they walked through the streets.

“They’re wonderful kids.” And lively ones, at that. Cyran had his own reservations about whether he was equipped to handle a couple of magical children, but they deserved a safe home, and if he could provide that, then he would - without question. “I am… thankful that you have given them something to smile about.”

He didn't think twice about giving Del his cloak - it was only the natural thing to do, he thought. But she seemed surprised by it all the same, brows furrowing as she made sure Cyran was certain about it. “Of course I'm sure.” He said, ensuring it was hooked over her shoulders properly before gently brushing some ash off of the side with a smile. Why did her thanks make him feel so flustered? “Think nothing of it. The environment here is not the most hospitable. I found the ash difficult to get used to when I first settled here, as well.”

They continued on, Cyran listening attentively while Del spoke. His nose briefly wrinkled at the mention of the Coldwoods. He’d been there, and to Frostgale, briefly in the past, but the few times he’d visited there had been there were cold and murky. He wasn’t yet accustomed to the freezing temperatures, or the harsh weather that persisted all hours of the day. But the way Del described it sounded… kind. Peaceful. He could almost picture the lights she described, though he’d never seen them himself. That, he wouldn’t mind seeing the way she did.

“I’ve visited before for work, but I’ve never had the chance to enjoy it properly.” He admitted, sheepish. “… I’m so used to mild climates that I have to admit that I spent most of my free time huddled in the corner of my tavern bedroom under as many blankets as I could find.”

He laughed, turning back to stare at the scenery. Though they appeared to be quite different types of society, Darkveil was not dissimilar from Frostgale, if not on opposite ends of the spectrum… the heat on one side of the coin, accompanied by softly falling ash, and the cold on the other, marked by the snow. Both carried a strange kind of beauty in it.

“But I remember standing just outside the Pale City once, watching the snow fall, and thinking to myself how quiet it was. As if the snow muffled everything around me. And it was… calm.” His voice grew quiet at that. Even as he stared at the street, his gaze was faraway, as if remembering that moment. But then he returned to the present moment, returned to Del, who was still watching him with an earnest expression on her face.

“But I haven’t seen the lights in the sky. They sound beautiful… what do they look like?”

Seeing the impact her compliment had on Cyran gave Del's stomach another small twist. It felt good to see that he? Felt good? About something she said. It was entirely possible-- likely, even-- that she was reading that warmth in his face wrong, that his body was simply responding to the environment. Still, it was nice to see he took and appreciated her compliment. She had truly meant it. That Cyran took such labourous work into his own hands, but did not hesitate to allow her into that space to freshen things up a little spoke very highly of his character.

Between them, the unspoken agreement to walk their own lines and invite the other over when it was time, she instinctually adhered to. It was based on a mutual respect and burgeoning trust. When that time would be, Del was not sure. That didn't matter, either. What mattered was enjoying each second as it drifted by, like the ash on the wind, and how it landed among his hair. Enjoying this time for the sake of enjoying it. And being in Cyrans wonderful company, she allowed herself to admit.

"You were in the Cradle recently?" lifts her amber eyes to him, bright with intrigue. "I've only been that way once or twice, guiding a caravan. Difficult place to travel in, with the weather and geography." Her eyes crinkle at the corners with her smile. "Rhi'as and Eleanor are great, they're quite a pair. I can see why you have them on. It's good that having them around allows you to step away to do your other work, and that you can rely on them."

Rhi'as and Eleanor were great; they were both so intensely different from one another, it was almost like looking in a reverse mirror. Rhi'as seemed eager, if a little shy, observant and perhaps a little impulsive. A good natured young man, all around. Eleanor was... some would refer to her as a bit rough around the edges', Del was sure, but she personally enjoyed the straightforward, almost crisp mannerisms. She got a sense of some internal tension, maybe rage, boiling under that surface that she could identify with. While she had spoken to them only a little, she did notice how they seemed to look to Cyran for guidance, and how Cyran spoke to them with respect and dignity. To Del, they were also beloved children under his charge, albeit older. Maybe she could find a way to see what either of them would like...

Hearing that Cyran was still learning himself brings words to Del's lips before she can stop them, echoing his thoughts without realizing. "That's the perfect place to start, then," she says brightly, followed by an immediate rising of heat to her face. "Ah. With what you've seen so far. Since I'm new, too. Learning what else there is would be. Very nice." She gets the sentence out, finally. At least it was coherent, but was it too eager? Gods, why were words so hard. The smile he gives her, thanking her for gving them something to smile about worsens the tension in her chest, but it does ease some of the tongue-tied feeling. "I'm thankful to have the chance."

The gentle act of him ensuring the clasp was secure and brushing ash off the side of the cloak resulted in a sudden cascade of sparks in the areas he brushed. That was... weird. It didn't hurt and it wasn't bad, but for a split second before they resumed their walk, Del caught herself holding her breath. "It, uh," words, words, where were the words-- "definitely takes getting used to; working in a forge, you always wind up with a little bit of soot everywhere, but here, it's so flaky and fine. Get's everywhere," she chuckles softly.

His nose wrinkle when she mentioned the Coldwood was... well, it was cute. She hadn't expected Cyran to make a face like that, even for a second, and finds herself smiling wider, laughing with him when Cyran admits to hiding under blankets to keep extra warm. Though that laugh, too, stills, as she watches him. Looking not at the street, but elsewhere. Remembering. When his eyes meet hers again, her gaze is already there, unfeigned absorption of his words and their meaning. Very calm. She understood that particular peace.

The question returned her her, and Del hums thoughtfully, now turning her own gaze away, up and to the left to think on how to describe it. Looking up at the ashy sky above them, rosy with the slowly fading afternoon light, Del remembers. "Have you ever seen someone paint with watercolour? Or a thin ink?" She lets her eyes close for a moment. "It's as though someone is moving pale ribbons of watercolour light over the sky. They're green, blue, purple, just thin enough that you can see the stars beyond them, but still bright enough to cast a little light on the snow, so everything is gently reflecting back up. They don't make any noise, but it's hard not to strain to hear whatever music it is the ribbons dance to. It's one of those phenomena that makes people believe in wonder, I think. It's... moving."

Oh. She got carried away, didn't she. Del opens her eyes, looking back to Cyran with a little embarrassment. "I don't think I'm doing it justice. But it is beautiful. Unfortunately, they also happen when it's coldest," Del shifts, playfully and gently bumping her elbow with his, recalling his dislike of the intense cold with a knowing smile. Teasing. Whatever prompted her to do that, she will never know, but her head is already buzzing, so she rolls with it.

"Which place so far has been your favourite?" she asks, curious. "You've travelled for a long time, has anywhere stuck out to you?"

“Only briefly.” He replied. Cyran had been through the Cradle a few times, but never under especially good circumstances, and always for work. “A friend of mine was tasked with taking care of a cave fisher infestation and I helped.” Of course, Gerhart ended up not needing much of Cyran’s help at all, being a more natural tracker and having more firepower to deal with a swarm of vicious beasts, but Cyran was just glad to be in his company and see how he was holding up after everything. “The terrain there is… difficult to navigate. The people who live there are definitely strong. I’m far too old to hang in sometimes.” He laughed. “And Rhi’as and Eleanor do a wonderful job watching over things in my absence. I’m sure they’re endlessly grateful for your help, too - it means they won’t have to struggle through making repairs themselves.”

His apprentices had taken a fast liking to Del, unsurprisingly so. Rhi’as seemed to feel at ease with her despite his usual anxieties around strangers, and Eleanor admired her for her strength. Cyran already held her in high esteem, but knowing that his two charges had adapted to her presence so easily… struck a chord in him. Made him feel more at peace with her around.

“Good.” Cyran didn’t seem to notice the awkward hesitation in her tone and the stumble in her words, considering, well… he sounded much the same. He was normally a pretty calm person, but right now, it would be pretty easy to see the cautious joy in his expression. “I’m thankful to show you. Once I drop off this, that is.” He raised his arm, gesturing with the bundle of mail that needed to be deposited.

The scenery was beginning to shift around them - Darkveil was never truly quiet, nor did it ever really sleep. The night was often even more busy than the day itself, a haven of bustling criminals, back alley deals, any manner of violent muggings, and political murders carried out under the all-seeing eyes of the ashen fathers. But in a place where such violent acts were commonplace, it was much easier to pick one’s self up and go about their day. Much easier to anticipate the dagger when you knew it was coming. And so people went on, through the city like normal, with a general aura of distrust settled in the air that hung heavier than the ash.

Cyran had no such reservations as he listened attentively to Del. Every so often, his gaze drifted downwards to her shoulders. The sight of her wearing his own cloak was… pleasing, for reasons he couldn’t place. Perhaps it was simply because he felt at ease knowing he’d helped her, and seeing her accept his offering, and the way it gathered around her shoulders when they shook from laughter at Cyran’s description of Frostgale. Had he made a joke of some sort? He didn’t think it had been particularly funny, but something in his words seemed to have sparked happiness in her - not in a way that felt malicious, but rather, surprised.

Her laughter faded, though, into something more thoughtful as she considered his question. He wondered if she would answer. It was a strange thing to ask, he knew - but she took it in stride and seemed to seriously put thought into the answer, as if this small thing, capturing a bit of that beauty for him in words where painting pictures failed.

And then.

He was swept away by the sound of Del’s voice - could practically see the dancing lights reflected in her eyes as she described the sight for him. Cyran had never seen such a phenomenon in the sky before, but with her words alone, taking her back there to that moment in the Coldwoods when she’d seen them, Cyran could pretend that he was standing next to her in the snow staring up at the sky. He opened his mouth, willing himself to say something, anything, but no words seemed enough.

And then she elbowed him with a teasing grin playing on her lips, and the spell he’d been put under seemed to wear off as he shook away that strangely raw feeling that had struck him while she spoke. “If it’s anywhere near half as beautiful as you describe, then I will simply have to brave the elements once more.” He returned, finally managing to find his voice once more. “I’ll simply have to pack enough blankets.”

He considered his answer for a moment. “There will always be a soft spot in my heart for Moonglade’s forests, and… I think there’s a strange kind of beauty in Zeinav.” He admitted. It was a haunting kind of elegance, where life was sequestered to the oases that fostered and sheltered them. And out in the wild lay the buried remains of all that had once been, merely waiting for the last grains of sand in the hourglass to fall until it was their time to reign amongst dusty tombs and ancient graves once more. It scared him as much as it intrigued him.

But…

“As for any place that’s stood out to me, well…” His answer would always be ash-covered streets, back to that quiet moment where he’d felt someone trying to pick his pocket and Cyran’s world became a lot bigger. He turned to Del and gestured towards the streets of Darkveil. Imperfect, but… familiar. And he supposed that was all he could ask for in a home. “I’ve already settled in.”

They’d already reached the post office - or what served for one around here. It was not labeled as such in any official capacity, but there were any number of spies one could employ here to make deliveries and gather information. As usual, Cyran could spot a couple of people lurking in the shadows, thugs that he was sure Del could see as well… it was strange not having to nudge her to get her attention and alert her to the presence watching them as he approached and made the drop. Cyran kept a close eye on them, hand lingering near his dagger, but they made no move as Cyran moved to speak with one of the informants lingering around the small shack, exchanging a couple of solars for quick delivery. Parcels were quickly exchanged - Cyran handed over his mail, and received a single envelope in return, which he tucked in his pocket before returning to Del.

“That was it for errands, I suppose…”

Which meant it was time for them to make their way back to Shade’s Valley.

Why did that make him feel strangely… disappointed?

"Ugh," she pulls a little face at her own Cave Fisher memory, laughing, "Cave Fishers. I had to deal with one a little while ago on an expedition in the desert; not very easy when they have the advantage of their lair." That sounded like a worthy thing to have to go to the Cradle for. The Cave Fisher had been her first large fight in a very long time, and had reminded her of what it had felt like to move.

She laughs with him at feeling too old to hang with the younger ones, so forward in their strength. Fighting alongside Leandros, Fish, Killian and Gerhart had been eye opening-- they were so spry and had so much energy. Just watching their tirelessness was exhausting. To that, Del nods her agreement, her expression shaping into a hopeful little smile as Cyran mentions Rhi'as and Eleanor; it would be wonderful if what she had done eased their burdens in any way. Running the orphanage, from what Del had seen, was an awful lot like a well-oiled machine. "They're good kids, those two. If my work makes it easier for you and for them, then I've met the purpose of my goal."

Cyrans expression as he spoke about showing her the things he liked about Darkveil made something in her chest buzz again. The careful sincerity, the way his smile pulled up at the corners to his eyes, brought out her own earnest joy. She didn't quite know why the promise of making plans to explore Darkveil together brought her such cheer, this city could be such a dangerous place, but that detail seemed unimportant in the face of those... plans.

Though she did not catch Cyran's expression while she had spoken about the auroras, lost in her own memory, it was not lost on her that when she looks back at Cyran, he is looking at her. But also-- maybe lost in thought for a moment? Certainly not that he had been breathless, no. It also would not occur to her that her description of what she had seen had been so vivid to Cyran that he had been transported to that moment with her, but perhaps he was remembering something similar. It's not until he catches himself, complimenting the way she described it as beautiful, that she felt a powerful desire to try and explain it even better. Or somehow show him. He had said he liked to stargaze, right?

Just as quickly, she's taken in by Cyran's answer to her own question. Del could agree; Moonglade was beautiful and ethereal. Zeinav was vast and felt ancient, and not only because of the ruins that were there, but due to the desert itself, shifting as though a giant in slumber. As he gestures to the city around them, though, Del feels the impact of Cyran's words, that same song that kept drawing her here. Messy, dangerous, ash covered, raw-- the honesty of its existence. It was a city that did not care what you thought of it; it would persist.

Her gaze lingers on Cyran's as she takes that in, an unabashed expression of regard mixing with her smile. Del blinks once, slow. "I must admit; it is growing on me." Cyran was proof that not everone in Darkveil was out to run her off. If the past few days were anything like how it could be here... well, that wouldn't be so terrible, now would it?

Darkveil certainly had it's charm.

Altogether too soon, they arrive at the post office. The people lurking in the alcoves and around corners, watching, creates a small bit of disquiet in Del-- odd that she didn't need to voice that to Cyran. She almost does, but when she turned her head to look at him, she saw his sharp silver eyes already looking in that direction from her corners. It actually makes her feel more at ease, more confident. Del stood nearby, arms folded over her chest, protective while Cyran made the exchange with the... postal worker? She wasn't quite sure, this building did not look wholly official, but then, this was Darkveil.

An eye was kept on the watchers in the dark, but they made no move. In that small span of time where nothing happened except for her standing guard, her jittery mind drifted a little, and Del was keenly aware she was wearing Cyran's cloak, out in the streets of an early evening, draped like comfort over her shoulders, accumulating the gentle fall of ash... and that the more she moved, the more it smelled like him.

Forcefully, she steers her thoughts back to the present as Cyran turns back to her. Del's smile flickers when he mentions that being it for the errands. Which meant they had to head back.

It takes a beat for her to respond, trying to make sense of what she was just about to do. But Del had stopped thinking and just let the thought train run out of the word station; what she wanted was to give Cyran a break. A longer one than fifteen, twenty minutes. She wanted to do something with him he hadn't done in a while. Spend just a little extra time in that peace. That was selfish, keeping him away from the orphanage, she knew, but... when was the last time Cyran had gotten to be a little selfish? Was that such a bad word anyway?

The thought forms on her tongue before she can quite grasp what it is.

"Of course! That's good, I'm, ah, glad you've gotten that squared away. Uh--" She looks to the left and sees it, as the clouds of ash shift a little on the breeze. A tower near the centre of town, an impressive structure made of the very stone that the city was founded on, reaching up into the slowly darkening sky. There. She looks back at Cyran, and, blushing furiously, gestures towards the spire in a bit of a hail mary. "...I wonder what's up there?" That wasn't a complete sentence, though words would be easier if she knew what she was trying to say. Try again. "I mean, ah, I haven't been that way yet. It looks like it goes up a long way." Finally, the idea coalesces. Stargazing. "You mentioned, it had um. Been a while since you last got a chance to star gaze. And I wanted to find you, too, earlier, to see if you wanted a proper break. So... that might be a good place to see if we can get a look?"

She manages to get the words out despite being a nervewracked mess, knowing she was taking another direct step out of the shadow and trying not to care too much about how the words sounded to her ears; an invitation. A risk, a chance, to explore a little longer. But the words are there now, suspended in the air between them, like the motes of ash in the air. Cyran could always decline if he wished to go back and resume his duties, that would be fine. But... she had to try. To give him the break he deserved, of course. That.

Primarily.

“Rather nasty creatures, aren’t they?” He agreed. “They’re vicious… I was lucky to have my friend with me. He’s a strong fighter - without him, I would have had significantly more trouble.” He was not… out of practice when it came to battle, but when he fought monsters, Cyran was often reminded of how woefully out of his league he was. His blades were meant for human enemies. At the very least, Del seemed to understand the sentiment of being too old and weary to fully keep up with the boundless energy of others. Idly, he wondered what it would be like to watch Del in battle.

She was obviously more than a carpenter in the way Cyran was more than a simple caretaker. Cyran could see that in the way she moved, the preparedness she held herself with. The way the shadows clung to her as they did him. She was competent, knew how to take care of herself.

“You’ve done all that and more.” Del hadn’t just patched up Shade’s Valley - she’d brought something entirely new with her that made the kids smile. They enjoyed running around and chasing her while she worked, and given them toys to play with. “And Darkveil is definitely an acquired taste. But there are things worth living for here. Perhaps later, depending on how long you’re staying, I could introduce you to some of my acquaintances.”

Taking care of the mail was a quick affair. He sighed, fiddling at his sleeve as he prepared to make his way back to the orphanage. It was not that he didn’t want to return to Shade’s Valley, but his time out had been so nice, and he was so tired. Rarely did he get the chance to just… exist with someone. Have a moment where there were no expectations were on him - no burdens, no work…

“Hm?” His melancholy melted away to confusion, following her gaze. “That spire? I’m not sure, I’m fairly certain it’s just a pillar…” Did she want to get closer to see it? “Nothing really special about it - oh!” Did she possibly… want to spend more time out exploring with him? Not just spend more time with Cyran - she wanted to look at the stars with him.

Why was it suddenly so hard for him to formulate words?

Cyran hummed, excitement thrumming in his veins as he glanced up at the tower. When he turned back to Del, he wore a playful smile on his face. “I’m not sure what’s up there. Perhaps we should investigate together.” The sun was already beginning to set, best they could tell from the thick clouds and smog that clung to the air. But even now, in the growing dusk, the sky was beginning to part. If there was any night to stargaze, it would be now.

He accepted her invitation with one of his own, without even truly thinking about how his body was moving before it did - an arm extended for her to grab as they walked through the street. Even though he’d offered, he still managed to feel even more flustered when Del accepted the gesture, pulling her arm out of his cloak to hook around his elbow. The sudden action caught him off guard, and he let out a rather undignified squeak, one he covered up with a cough into his fist.

“Right. Erm. Well. Shall we head that direction, then?”

The spire was just on the edge of Darkveil, an outcropping of jutting rock that seemed to have been created from the shifting earth around Mount Drakolt. There were a few of them around the city, but this one towered above the others, determined to touch the clouds. Cyran wondered how they were meant to get up there, but every time he turned to Del, he found himself so strangely flustered that he could not find the words to ask. Del may have been grasping at straws with the invitation, but he trusted she had some sort of idea of how to get to the top.

He supposed if worst came to worst, he could always fly them up.

For once, Cyran did not have a meticulous plan for what he was about to do, and that was strangely exciting, this kind of… winging it. He wondered where the evening would take them.

It took them a few minutes to reach the very edge of the spire, Cyran craning his neck to get a better look at the top. “So… what now?”

The idea of meeting some of Cyran's acquaintances is a special sort of thrill. She hadn't... decided on how long she would be staying. If she would be staying. That was sort of up to whomever came after her and if she had to leave. But, so far, things had been fine. And she came here for a reason, even if that draw was nebulous and strange. She liked the children of the orphanage, she liked assisting, and there was nowhere for her to go, not really. Logically, she has nothing better to do than remain here.

Even so, that logic is a soft whisper compared to the warmth that had started to accompany the tightness around her lungs, a mere justification of that feeling. It could open a lot of new doors, her work was appreciated here--
(it allows you to stay)
--It could help expand her work, her network, her reach--
(it allows you to stay)
--It could give the answers she sought. Maybe that was what she was supposed to do here, what she had been called for.
(Stay.)

"I-- I would like that very much," She had murmured, her smile a little wavering crest. "I can stay."

Though the mail was done and over with though, and all that remained was... well, this. Whatever it was that she had wrought. Experiencing a moment of panic as Cyran does not quite seem to understand what she is suggesting (what IS she suggesting?) Del tries to scramble for more words to explain her intent-- even then, it was worth it to see the disappointment in his eyes clear just a bit. Did he... not want to go back just yet, as well?

And then, something shifted, as realization moved over his features, and something else, something Del can't place. Acceptance-- inviting her to investigate together, a cheeky smile turning Cyran's usually careful expression into one Del hadn't seen before now; something playful and almost teasing, with a hint of mischief as he offers... his arm to her. Something about that, and his earnest acceptance, causes her chest to clench again.

Wheeze.


She clears her throat again, "That-- yes. Wonderful." It's almost magnetic, the way her hand is drawn to his arm. That's been the first time in... well, ever, to her knowledge, someone had done any of this, is what she tells herself. That perhaps she is just reacting to the idea of mere contact, because she had been without for so long... decades, really. Being the bravest she's ever been, sliding her arm free of the cloak, her hand loops through the offered crook of his elbow, praying he doesn't feel the way it trembles ever so slightly. She barely hears the squeak, though she does look up at him, wondering if she had accidentally hurt him somehow, but he seems... unharmed.

Perhaps this was as odd for him as it was for her? Yet more things they had in common. Accomplishing that simple thing, Del lifts her head to give Cyran a small, encouraging smile. "Let's."

The walk is a quiet one, nearly painfully so, by comparison. It isn't an awkward, tense silence that can be cut with words; it feels full and weighted. She can't seem to find her voice, her lungs so compressed, and so unsure of what to talk about now that she could feel his arm under her hand, his hip brush lightly up against hers, her hair shift and flutter into his. There's no trying to puzzle out the meaning of his words or actions, there is only an internal scream happening in her head that distracts her from rational thought. There was a lot. She felt a bit sick.

It was the best day she'd had in recent memory.

They arrive at the tower in what seems like both an eternity and a mere second. She looks up at it; it's a marvel. A jagged structure scraping at the clouds, like fingers of earth. What now? That was a good question, she had no plan beyond stargazing. That was as far as her original thought had went. Del quietly prayed that her voice wouldn't fail her now.

"We, ah. Climb!" Fingers flex against his arm for a moment before she releases his elbow. Her pace picks up a little, getting a running start in a couple of steps, and kicks off the wall, scaling up only few feet before grasping one of the jagged thorns and hanging there by one hand. Bright eyed, breathless, she looks down to Cyran and grins. Oh-- that was... if he could climb?

For some reason, she thought he could. She didn't know that for sure, but of all the other things she had noticed about him, and about Cyran being a hunter... well, she wouldn't put it past him. But would he? He was a father, someone who people looked up to here. He had a reputation.

...maybe that was exactly why he should.

It's her turn for a playful, crooked smile, reaching out a hand to him to help him onto the side of the spire. She doesn't think, abandoning that entirely. Del just wants to be present in the moment with Cyran, and enjoy herself, and watch him enjoy himself. He deserved that. "Think we can get to the top?"

“Are you sure?” Cyran wasn’t sure what he’d expected to come of his offer, a spur of the moment decision. He hadn’t truly been thinking - foolish. Del had expressed multiple times before that she was a traveler, not tied to any land. It was not his place to dictate where she went or spent her time, regardless of how much he desired to get to know her better, to learn about her as a person, to figure out where this connection would take them. He’d gotten ahead of himself. But Del… seemed to take to the idea. Cyran bit his lip when she offered a smile in acceptance. “I do not wish to hold you where you do not want to stay. I merely - well - you are welcome to stay in Shade’s Valley as long as you’d like. I’m… happy to host you while you are here.”

Dear gods, what was wrong with him today?

That boldness seemed to only grow, much to his utter mortification and confusion. Offering Del his arm. Growing flustered when she accepted, likely out of manners, though he was kicking himself for his forwardness, or… whatever this was. Even he was not sure. It was silly, really. In all his centuries of life, he could not remember being so tongue-tied or flustered. Uncertain, yes. There had been plenty of times in the past where he felt unsure of his place in the lives of others, or whether he was deserving of the love he’d been given in turn. But there was something strange about this feeling, a foreign sort of pounding like the fluttering of a hummingbird’s wings against the back of his chest, a cacophony of nervous attentions that had his body on high alert.

Hm.

It was an utterly irrational sensation, admittedly.

The nerves made an otherwise friendly gesture feel so much more grand than it really was. He thanked his lucky moon and stars that at the very least, Del did not attempt to speak with him as he walked, coming to grips with the wonderfully mortifying experience of being so close to her, for he feared he would simply utter a string of unintelligible gibberish and make a fool of himself. A few times, she glanced at him, like she wanted to say something, and Cyran would greet her with a smile, one that made him feel like he was about to burst.

Somehow, braving the tomb in which he’d lost his eye and nearly his life felt less nerve-wracking than this.

Eventually, the spire was in view, and Cyran was still so detached from himself that he somehow found it in him to ask the most obvious question he could have managed. How else were they meant to get up there? Never in his life would he have considered making his way up to the top of one of these things, but there was no other way up. Of course they would be climbing to get up there!

“Of… of course. That was rather silly of me-“ His breath was immediately stolen from his lungs as Del released him to take a running start at the wall, launching herself up there with joy and conviction and fierceness that made his chest hurt even more. He was frozen stiff as she made it a decent way up the jagged rock foundation before pausing and turning to him, a coy look on her face. Challenging.

And Cyran didn’t have it in him to resist.

He’d pursued that boldness thus far. What was a little more?

“I think we can get up there without much trouble.” He crossed his arms, a challenge in his voice that felt uncharacteristic of him - what in the hell was he doing?- but it felt… fun to be a little stupid and wild. He had no doubt Del was an adept climber, whereas his own talents lie… elsewhere. But at the very least, it would make for a little fun on the way to the top.

It was the journey that mattered, after all.

“In fact, I can even give you a head start.” Perhaps his tone was even a little overconfident. He wasn’t entirely sure he could beat her in an outright race, not entirely. What Cyran lacked in strength, he made up for with his own tricks he kept carefully hidden up his sleeve.

But would Del take the bait, play the game?

Knowing she was welcome here filled Del with an unexpected flood of warmth. Touched by how he wanted to make sure she was not simply acquiescing to his offer, while in the same breath making sure she knew she had a place at Shade's Valley, while she was here. She scarcely knew what to do with that. "I-- that's... such a generous offer, and..." if you're sure... "--I am. Sure, that is. I'd like to stay."

It was nearly impossible to quantify in this moment how simple words like that, an active offer of friendship, connection, struck her. Even for herself, Del had no words to even begin tryin to explain it. A place to be, not have to be on the run, not sleeping outdoors. Her lifestyle was simple, monastic, but that didn't mean she would ignore an open door when it was offered. This one, she was happy to walk through.

...She would have to tell him why she wandered so much, then, if she was to remain. For his safety and that of those in his care.

But not, perhaps, today. Not while they were enjoying the early evening and taking a proper break. Not while they were having... fun.

For a moment, her own boldness makes her nervous; too much. Maybe. What was she even doing? She was acting like... like some adolescent, wanting to go up a building just to see what was there.

That wasn't the only reason, something within her whispered.

She was't even sure he could climb.

You could offer to carry him. .

Thankfully, before she can allow that thought to percolate, Cyran steps toward her, arms crossed, but... oh, there was a challenge in his voice and in the wry way he looked at her. As he issues his confident, gracious offer, the wind goes out of her lungs for a moment, uttered as a bright, clear, unexpected ring of a laugh slips out from her smile. The lilt of his lips and daring tone rolled down her throat and into her stomach, settling like sediment. It was almost... impish. Rakish. Now that was a side she hadn't seen of him, until now.

Why did that make her feel so giddy? So light?

Still laughing, Del answers his challenge with a raise of her brows, her smile wide and raw with delight. Her own teasing tone slips out; she's not quite sure where it comes from, but, gods, it feels so good to just let go for once. "How generous! A gentleman through and through." She reaffixes her hand to the wall, looking back at him over her shoulder, daring. "Don't keep me waiting, then."

It's a good thing she has to climb, for after those words, her heart feels like it could leap from her chest as if in protest.

His cloak billowing about her shoulders, she starts to climb, quickly. Hand over hand, gripping the jagged pieces in the wall with firm fingers, her movement fluid and sure as she starts to quickly go higher and higher. She was aware she was, maybe, showing off a bit, but she felt the little competitive fire ignited within her and that felt good to indulge. Very quickly, she's about half-way up, showing no signs of slowing.[1][2]

The climbing is a great way to expend that excess... energy. Tension. Jitters. Whatever you wanted to call it. But there was also a deep excitement there, too. Her heart battered her ribs; What would Cyran's ascent be like?

---

[1]Surface Scaling
[2]Cat's Grace

“I am. I am sure. If you’re sure.” He felt like a fool, repeating everything Del was saying right back to her. He still was not entirely convinced he hadn’t pressured her to this point. Before settling down here he’d lived thinking he’d never find stability in his life again, and he’d been at peace with that. There was comfort in the lifestyle, knowing that the world could not hurt you if you didn’t give it the chance to, and in turn, you could not hurt the world. He’d been nothing but a ghost for years, never stopping, never settling, always looking for the next job. Having a space to call your own was an utterly foreign ordeal. Even today, he still took to the road where he could, at ease when he traveled for work. When one was constantly in motion, it was difficult to force yourself to stop.

Del seemed… interested, though, in his offer. She’d been staying in the guest room thus far, but Cyran was not opposed to it being filled indefinitely, at least until Del was struck with the wanderlust once more. He would have to readjust the space so that it was more suitable for her stay in the long run, but he would be happy to accommodate her.

Those thoughts lingered in the back of his mind until they reached the spire, and he was more preoccupied with the climb.

Del took to scaling the spire with the ease and grace of someone who’d climbed mountains thousands of times before until the sheer act itself became muscle memory. She was a graceful dancer twirling between crags in the rocks and breaks in the formation, a flight all on its own, his cloak billowing behind her. Hers was a climb of cultivated strength and toned muscle, ease born from practice, and she took to it like a fish to water. It was fascinating to watch.

Cyran wouldn’t leave her waiting for long.

Del was about halfway up and making good time when Cyran finally decided to move. A pair of inky-black spectral wings, living shade come to life, burst forth from his back and fluttered before settling down, stretching out after being tucked away for so long.^[1] He tested them out, giving them an experimental flap to make sure everything was in working order, a smile playing at his lips, before taking off into the air. Del was in for a surprise of her own.

The wind in his face was a familiar balm, the feeling of weightlessness that was suddenly accompanied by taking into the air. Cyran secretly enjoyed flying. In the air, the feeling of being so untethered was… purposeful. Controlled. His own connection to his dark magic was volatile and turbulent, an ever-growing presence in the back of his mind, one that made him feel he was adrift at sea every time he slipped further into that darkness. But flying… that was something he cherished. One thing that he alone was in control of. It was not exhilaration that drove him, but an odd sense of peace, as he cut through the air, unimpeded by obstacles and rock. And perhaps a bit of amusement when he finally soared past Del on his way to the top, savoring the astonished look on her face when she saw exactly how he intended on getting to the top.

By the time he reached the top, perched on the stone spire, he was breathless from silent laughter and surprised that he’d somehow managed to win. Cyran straightened, brushing ash and dirt off his tunic before turning to peer down the spire. Del was nearly at the top, but not quite - slowed down by her laughter after he’d startled her with his sudden flight. The element of surprise, it seemed, had been the deciding factor in this battle of skill against magic. Otherwise, he wasn’t sure he could have ever bested her, given the speed of her climb. He glanced down at her and waved, still taking the chance to catch his breath.

“It looks like I win this time.” He called over the wind, despite the fact that they had not established that this was a race at all. It was silly and utterly stupid, the kind of thing one of his kids would do. But it was surprisingly fun, letting himself… cut loose for a moment. Del did not need the help, but when she got closer to the top, he offered his hand out to pull her up the rest of the way.

---

1. Bat Wings (1/3)

She doesn't dare look down just yet, seeking the top of the spire and wanting to see how far Cyran could get before she made it there. It felt good to climb again, especially like this, which was for pure enjoyment and not survival. It was a special sort of thrill, feeling the cold stone under her hands, calloused fingers gripping edges as she finds foot and finger holds, feeling each muscle in her body coil and tense in a practiced ease that would carry her higher, higher, as high as she wanted.

She wondered if Cyran had experienced that. They had some similarities, she knew, but she did not know for certain these things. He carried himself a certain way, carried daggers and knives... he could fight, there were signs of that, at least. But she wondered what that would look like. How he would move in a shape flies past her out of the corner of her eye. Del pauses, clinging to the wall as she looks at what that was-- and bursts out into a loud, ringing laugh that echoes from the heights. "You can fly?!" She yells after him, mirth and astonishment in her voice. She never would have expected that. But then, there was much she could not have expected at all. Being invited to stay; the playful engagement of a game between them; being seen in the shadows.

Del could not remember being young, but if this elation was anything close, then it was something she had sorely missed.

Cyran's easy flight on bat wings is bewitching. He sails so gracefully and elegantly, he looks right at home in the sky. Challenged, the sight drives her to climb faster to try and beat him to the top, almost leaping up the side of the tower as she hauls herself up by her arms, but he was there well before she made it.

She's still laughing by the time she reaches the top. Seeing his hand, she takes it, letting him pull her up, but her own momentum is more than she accounted for. "I think-- oh!" Stumbling into him a little as he pulls her up, a moment chest to chest smothers the laugh as it fizzles in her throat. Del pulls back, a hand instinctively moving to his waist to make sure she didn't stagger him, the other tightening around the hand he had offered her. They were up high, the last thing they needed was a fall. "Ah, sorry," she coughs, and finds the laugh again as that hand drops. The colour in her face is deep, flushed from exertion and that little stumble. Embarrassing, to trip up there. "Bit dizzy, I think. From the climb."

...What was she saying again.

"--I, ah, think you certainly do! Win, that is. But I think I'd like a rematch at some point-- without the wings," She manages to tease, standing close so he can hear her over the wind. It was a bit easier to get the words out with all the pent-up tension worked from her limbs.

There's not a whole lot of space at the top of the spire, but there's a little flat area, broken off around the tip, that they could at least comfortably sit at. She looks at that spot, and then up at the sky. A little gasp leaves her as, high above the heavy ash, the clouds and the smoke from the volcano shifts more easily in the wind. Here, they can see the stars, peeking out in a sea of navy blue, as the last vestiges of the sun set red and hot over a veiled, lantern speckled city below, not realizing yet that she was still holding his hand, entirely enraptured by the sight before them. "Dust and ash, what a view," she breathes.