He could barely hear her incredulous voice over the roar of the wind, but Cyran could see the shock on her face and the laughter that bounced off the wall of the spire at the sight of Cyran breezing past her with the ease of a bird cutting through the air. It was a cheap trick, he knew, but he savored the look of surprise and delight on Del’s face as he passed. He only caught a glimpse of it for a second - it felt a lot longer than that. He kept an eye on her during his ascent, his speed spurring Del on to move faster, push herself further. But her amusement had cost her valuable time, allowing Cyran to secure the victory in this not-race.

He tucked his wings neatly behind his back when he landed to prevent them from fluttering nervously in anticipation and betray his emotions while he bent down and helped Del up. Her calloused palm was warm when he helped her to her feet - perhaps he pulled just a touch too hard, or she was moving up too fast, but the both of them stumbled, Del’s momentum forcing her to bump into him. He staggered, just managing to catch himself before they both went tumbling to the ground. It left the two of them standing agonizingly close to one another in a way Cyran wasn’t prepared to handle. He blinked when she held onto his waist and squeezed his hand, unable to be the one to break this bout of prolonged eye contact.

“Um. Hello, there.” He whispered, unsure of how else to break the silence, only to immediately feel foolish when the words left his lips. It was no wonder Del immediately moved to put space between them, brushing herself off while she gathered herself. Not for the first time, Cyran cursed his inability to handle himself with decorum. He readjusted his tunic with his free arm, huffing out a laugh as she challenged him to another round later to determine who the true winner was… without tricks.

“Ah… of course. I’m not quite as talented as scaling buildings as you, so I thought it would be a bit of fun. But of course we should try this again, on fairer terms, to ensure fairness of course.”

They made their way to the flat part of the spire - not the largest or most comfortable space, but it was enough for the two of them to sit without being cramped. They started making their way over to the space when the ash-clouds finally began to thin, allowing them a glimpse at the night sky. The sun had already set enough that the lights were visible in the night sky. In the shadows playing from the shifting clouds, the assassin’s eyes were sensitive enough that he could still easily make out everything around them - from the city of ash where the night life was beginning to pick up, to the peak of Mount Drakolt in the distance, to the twinkling constellations in the night sky, to…

Del was still gripping his hand.

Cyran’s wings fluttered, unbidden.

He wasn’t sure he could be even more overwhelmed than he’d been on the walk here, but somehow, this felt even more real. Up here, there was no one but the two of them, nowhere to go, no crowd to get lost in… no excuses as to why she would still be holding onto him. She must have been… gripping him to combat the wind in case one of them got blown away. This high up, even the most experienced of climbers would find themselves having trouble if they were to suddenly lose their footing, and he was the one who could fly. Yes, that made sense.

This prolonged contact rationalized, Cyran felt only somewhat more at ease as he watched the stars blinking in the sky. If Del didn’t want to let go, then he would be… content to stay where he was, too. And for a moment, neither moved. The view from up here was unlike anything he’d managed to find from the ground. Cyran had almost given up getting to see the stars from Shade’s Valley.

“I used to watch the stars from the rooftop of my house in Eclipse City.” He admitted, voice so quiet that he wasn’t sure Del would even be able to hear his words over the roar of the wind. He wasn’t even sure if he meant for her to hear, already lost in his memories. He used to take Marlow up with him, sit her in his lap while he told her stories of the origins of constellations. “Some find its vastness daunting… but I’ve always appreciated it for its consistency. No matter how much time passes, no matter what happens, the stars will always remain the same.”

Internally, Del kicked herself, but the reason why was complicated. For stumbling? For not pulling away soon enough? For pulling away so quickly? That last one was especially kick worthy-- they could have fallen, for gods' sake!

But it had been more than that. It had been that brief expression on Cyran's face in those narrow heartbeats before she had pulled back, close enough she could see the limbal rings of his one visible iris and the floral pattern of his lovely eyepatch, this candid, raw look of something she couldn't discern, had pierced something in her chest. The low whisper burned in her ears, even after she pulled back, laughing, looking at the stars, resonating with its own hum as if a tuning fork had been struck.

It's hard to drown it out, even as the wind whipped around them and her blood did it's best to rush in her ears

"Fair for you too," She agrees, unable to stop smiling. If that meant she had to find some way to fly, she would do that. It would be more fun if they were on equal footing-- though she certainly didn't mind losing. The climb, seeing him shoot past her on bat wings, had been exhilarating. Being up here, so far away from the world below, was a singular experience. She couldn't wait to just... sit and stare at it all.

His wings seem to shiver out of the corner of her eye, a curious little quaver. She turns from the sky back to him, brows slightly knitted with concern. "Oh, are you cold?"

It's just as she goes to release Cyran's hand to remove one half of the cloak to offer it to him that Del realizes she had been holding it all this time. It's a damn good thing the wind is so strong, or she would be sure he could hear the sudden burst of her heart beat in her chest. She had only just noticed-- had he noticed? If he had... no, that made sense. Cyran was sweet and thoughtful, and had probably been simply too polite to say anything, for fear of unbalancing themselves again. Of course, that was why.

Still, she unravels her end of the cloak, extending it out to him as an invitation to shield himself from the wind and chill. Survival 101, combine body heat for warmth.

(You could just give him the cloak back. You'd be alright without.)

But he had offered it so gallantly earlier, and she did not want to... cause offense. Or make him worry. Or try to extend pity where it wasn't welcome, or otherwise make assumptions. This way, it was the best of both worlds; they could share the cloak, and the experience, together.

Yeah. That was it.

There's a brief pause following that offer that makes her waver internally but perhaps that was because he couldn't hear her over the wind...? Before she can speak up, though, he accepts, and suddenly they are shoulder to shoulder, his warmth as near as her own, close enough to discern the gentle sigh of his breath from the wind. She gives him a tentative smile.

Her chest feels like it's being twisted in a vise and she has no one to blame for it but herself.

Proximity shouldn't be such an issue, she was a close quarters fighter. Physical contact didn't bother her... but this was different than enduring a blow or holding someone close to throw them, wasn't it. This was simple, pure, closeness, with no expectation or pain involved. This made her skin alight with static, creeping fractures of ice that numbed and chilled simultaneously. It's hard not to relish it-- this is simply a practical sharing of warmth. And that was accomplished; Del felt as though she was burning.

She tilts her head slightly, sharp elf ear moving to catch his hushed words as they stare up at the sky together. Realizing they're on the flat portion of the spire now, she gently starts to lower, hoping he'll follow her down so they can sit. Another smile alights there-- he hadn't spoken much of the city where he was from. Seeing him lost in that memory for a moment was deeply touching. His singular gaze was so far away, but in it, Del could see the reflections of stars.

It was impossible to guess exactly what he was remembering, though the distant ache there was familiar. Adjusting herself slightly, her shoulder tilts into Cyran's just a little, offering the quiet comfort of a presence. The gazing, the moment is what matters, and for that she will gladly sit in that distant moment with him.

Looking back to the sky, her own voice is low in reply. "It is comforting. It's fascinating to try and think about how big it is and how far it goes." No matter how much time went by or how much she learned she had forgotten, she knew the stars, wheeling endlessly in the expanse above, were largely the same year after year, century after century. "I like knowing that no matter where I am, if I look up, I know I'm looking at the same sky as everyone else. The stars may be in different order, but at some point, we looked at the sky at the same time, and saw the same thing. It connects everything, without us ever knowing."

“We will simply have to find a challenge that puts us both on even terms.” He sounded excited at the prospect. Rarely did Cyran get the opportunity to use his energy to go running about and whatnot simply for fun, even when it was with his kids. It had always about survival. This was a different sort of challenge altogether, one that left him reeling with the good kind of adrenaline that made him want to fly down to the bottom and try again. Or perhaps that was because he was still dizzy from the sudden contact. The entire thing had left him rather lightheaded, a fact that he attributed to the thinner air so up high. That had to be the reason he felt so strange right now.

“… Cold?” He was a bit chilled, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He wasn’t sure what Del was insinuating, but before he could ask, she had already shrugged off one side of his own cloak, offering it to him. For a moment, what she was offering - sharing the warmth from the fabric - didn’t make sense to him. For a moment, he contemplated declining her offer, allowing her to keep the cloak and the heat. He would be just fine without it. But there was something unsure in her expression, so hesitant, that he couldn’t find it in himself to, even though the prospect of actually sitting so close to one another, occupying the same small space, felt rather daunting.

But he’d already climbed one hurdle today. What was one more?

With slow, hesitant movements, almost painfully so, Cyran nodded. He couldn’t find it in himself to say anything. His wings dissipated into smoke as he pulled himself closer to her, fingers brushing against her own when he grasped the other side. The contact could only have lasted for a few seconds. And yet, his hand burned. As did his shoulder where he was pressed against Del. Despite the fact that his posture was stiff, he forced himself to relax, mentally repeating the same mantra to himself that was running through her mind, unbeknownst to him. This is practical. She only offered because this is the most convenient for both of us. This is practical…

It was not just the cloak that warmed him as they stared up at the ever-still lights in the darkness together.

“Yes… no matter what time, or what place, we all look at the same sky. There is comfort in that.” He thought of Marlow once more, what she was doing now. Sometimes, when he allowed himself to imagine such things, he pictured her climbing up to the roof of their old manor, watching the stars in the same way he would once do with her. Cyran had no idea if she still held onto such things, but whenever he gazed upon the constellations in the night, it brought him some manner of peace to think of her in Eclipse City. And in turn, perhaps she was thinking of him. Even while separated by distance and time, they were still sharing this moment. And right now, he was sharing it with Del, too - the three of them all staring up at the sky, watching the twinkling lights that had been hung up by Ziev himself, millennia ago.

“Thank you for sharing this with me.” He whispered.

Whether he was speaking to Del or Marlow, he was not sure. Perhaps both. Thanking Marlow for sitting under the same sky as him, or to Del for being the one to bring him out here, give him a piece of something he had missed so dearly. 

A challenge on even terms. Del muses to herself; there were a lot of possibilites for that. Exciting ones. Maybe something to do with their mutual connection of shadows, maybe? The idea of them playing tag or hide-and-seek like kids springs to her mind. Playful, spontaneous, fun for the pure hell of it.

That was silly, though. But-- oh, it sounded wonderful, didn't it? Del turns that over in her mind, confused as to why it excites her so. Maybe it's just more chance to spend time with Cyran. He didn't seem put off by the idea, either. Far from it.

...That just made the buzzing worse.

A buzz, a near shiver, that persists despite of the warmth under the cloak. The hand he brushed (ridiculous, they had just been holding hands a moment ago-- oh, remembering that did NOT help) when he took the cloak has sent a spiral of sparks up her arm, the vibrating tingles of that tuning-fork resonance that moved the very marrow of her bones. Cyran's voice does not have so far to travel to her ear here, they sit so close. There's a wistful quality to them, a far off memory Del can only imagine.

For a reason she does not understand, it echoes with a pang in her chest. Something about him looking to the past... evokes empathy. There was so much she could not remember, but the beginning of her own memory was still decades past. Her mentor, fate ultimately unknown, somewhere far off. She wondered if anyone from before that time, too, who knew her was still alive. If there was anyone who even remained who could miss her.

Thinking briefly on those who hunted her, she thought not, and so pushed it aside. The moment she was in was what mattered. Right now, she was present with someone who she felt understood much of her, who was gentle and kind and had welcomed her into his space. A true moment of peace she had not experienced in... ever, probably.

She remains still, as if doing so would preserve this spun-sugar fragile moment for even just a bit longer so she could commit it to memory. This would be one thing, Del vowed, that she would not forget.

The stars as they shone beyond the clouds, were cold, distant, and eternal. Here, the moment was warm, close, and fleeting; no less impactful, no less precious than the diamonds above them as they sit among the ash.

Cyran's whisper of thanks sends a small shiver up her spine, and she turns her head slightly to look up at him. His single eye is far away again. She doesn't know if he is speaking to her, a memory, or the stars themselves. The faint starlight and the last dregs of sunlight fall across his pensive face.

...dust and ash. What a view.

--Oh. She reaches up, the hand of the arm not pressed against his, through the gap in the cloak to gently brush a mote of ash out of the tresses of his hair. It retreats quietly again-- why she had done that, she didn't quite know. A reflex. The realzation only enhances the hushed quality of her voice, as she says, "Bit of ash," as if that explained it, gaze drifting back to the sky. Thank the gods for the darkness concealing the depth of the flush in her skin. Then, she adds, "I'm very glad to have shared this with you."

A shifting, slight movement drew Cyran’s attention away from the sky - his gaze flicked over to Del, whose hand was in his hair, and gone just as quickly, as if it had never been there at all. But Cyran remembered the movement, unsure as to what it meant, until she hastily offered explanation. Yes, that made sense. Ash tended to get tangled in his hair easily. Del was merely trying to be helpful. “Thank you.” He replied, unable to trust himself to say anything else.

“I know it’s no thunderstorm… but perhaps we could try to find one of those next.” There was a teasing lilt to his words, but a genuine offer. It felt only natural that they chase after Del’s interests as well with the same wild abandon that they’d climbed this pillar. He remembered that she hadn’t had much to offer as far as her own hobbies in the first place, a fact that had saddened him as much as it resonated with him. Being on survival mode for so long didn’t lent to fostering hobbies. Whittling and woodcarving were all well and good… but there was no substitute for true peace and relaxation.

He hoped she found some comfort in this moment.

“I used to read up on the myths behind constellations, when I had the time.” He admitted after they settled into comfortable silence once more. Perhaps he could have been content to simply watch the twinkling lights and blazing comets in peace, but this, too, he wanted to share with her. “It intrigues me, the stories that mankind ascribes to those magical balls of light in an attempt to bring meaning to them.”

He’d spent hours between the pages of old stories, the spirits who occupied the skies and immortalized in parchment. They ranged from stories of love to cautionary tales, each and every one as distinct as the person or figure that was believed to live amongst the stars. In truth, there was no such poetic meaning behind the stars, believed to have been hung up by Ziev out of necessity to provide light in the night sky in addition to Lunala’s gentle moon. But Cyran thought that the myths of ages old added a level of hope and imagination to the sky, born from attempts to make sense of a world that they did not understand.

And in turn, it gave him a glimpse of how people had once looked at random clusters of glowing white dots and saw life and love.

“For instance, that one - there.” He wasn’t sure what compelled him to do this. Perhaps Cyran was caught up in the retelling of the story, moving much in the same way he once used to with Marlow when he would tell these same stories. But before he could think, he’d already grabbed Del’s hand, raising their arms to the sky and guiding her to point at the constellation in question.

“Can you see the maiden in the stars, there?” He guided her hand to point at each individual star, tracing out the image that they made so that she could see it and visualize it with her own muscle memory. “That is Andromeda.”

A name he’d taken great pleasure in ascribing to his apprentice.

“The legends say that Andromeda was once a princess of a faraway kingdom by the sea. When her mother, Cassiopeia, boasted that there was none more beautiful than her - not man nor sea spirit - Andromeda was chained to a rock in the ocean as punishment, left to be devoured by a sea monster. She was innocent of any crime, left to rot for her mother’s pride.”

He paused, tone suddenly shifting.

“But they say that a goddess-“ Some interpretations listed different deities of the sea depending on their own beliefs, but most common versions depicted this goddess as Salina- “Fell in love with her, and rescued her from her cruel and unjust fate. She gave Andromeda a new life, away from her parents, where she could be free.”

He turned to look at Del proper. “Of course, none of it is real. It’s merely a silly tale meant to explain why certain stars are clustered that way. But it is fun to think about them, no?”

Del lifts her eyes to Cyran, a look of gentle surprise breaking into a small smile. He had remembered that? That foolish little thing she had scrambled for as an answer for what 'hobbies' she had? It was no less true-- she did enjoy thunderstorms. But it... he had remembered. That little inane thing, Cyran recalled to mind without any prompting and offered to partake in with her. Her nose burns, her ears burn, her eyes burn. Her lungs breathe steam. Again, Cyran had seen through her shadows, leaving her exposed and thick-tongued, only now there was a flutter against her sternum as if something were trying to escape. It was a good thing she was sitting down; Del was a little dizzy.

"I would, ah... I'd like that." She says after a moment of composing herself, and the smile that meets him is a sweet one. "I don't know how often they roll through here, but, when they do, I'm sure they're spectactular."

The companionable quiet that follows, allowing them to look up at the twinkling sea of stars above them, brings a singular sense of peace to Del's soul. Though she can't help but feel her heart leap when Cyran speaks again, looking his way. That people since time immemorial had tried to ascribe meaning to that distant, cool light. Her brows lift in genuine interest, eager to hear these thoughts and interests. "What sorts of stories?"

Any other question or words she might have die immediately in her throat as Cyran takes her hand. Del holds her breath, feeling how warm she is agaist his cool hand where it cups hers, as he lifts their hands together, to the sky, the stars. She's pretty sure her heart is trying to squirm through the bars of her ribs.

Rapt, reverent, Del's attention fully on his hand on hers and the constellation he traces with his-- their hands. Her breath is still and unmoving in her lungs. Her chin dips in a mute, careful nod, eyes locked on the vision before her; she does see the maiden, particularly after she is outlined in the sky above. Del knew how to navigate by the stars, but Cyran knew the stars, called them by name and spoke their memory. What a harrowing, tragic story. What a lovely one. What a thought, to be remembered, immortalized, by the stars.

Del stares at Cyran in silence for a few heartbeats, quietly marvelling, quite literally starstruck. Not a single part of him was shallow or surface level. He was a true, genuine soul, and his passion for his interests and devotion to the children in his care, floored her. He was nothing short of incredible. She holds back those words though, intent on listening to him explain the story of Andromeda and the goddess who fell in love with her, saving her from a cruel fate and her parents' hubris.

Cyran meets her gaze to tell her it was a silly tale, meant for people to find meaning in what they could not understand. Del remembers how to breathe just then, and cannot help but give him a bright smile. "It is fun. I... I don't think I've ever heard these stories before. Or had this much fun. I can navigate by starlight, but you know how we came to call them by these names, and why. That's just... beautiful."

She rolls her hand over onto his, lifting it to point both their hands at a different constellation, across the sky. "Can you tell me about that one?" Del asks, a bubbling excitement in her tone, eager to learn.

“Unfortunately, not many storms pass through here often, unless you count ash storms.” Then again, the weather had been changing an awful lot lately. The unexplainable earthquakes, whispers about Mount Drakolt… the world was changing so fast that Cyran wasn’t sure how to make sense of it all. The topic felt far too grim and unpleasant for what had been otherwise a lovely outing, so he strayed away from storms back to the stars, grabbing Del’s hand and telling her the story of Andromeda, the unfortunate maiden.

He almost expected her boredom or disinterest, but Del seemed entranced, the light from the reflection of the stars sparkling in her eyes while she inquired as to the kind of tales held in the cosmos, almost as if Cyran could transport her to the place of myth and legend, back when people wanted to ascribe fantasy to reality. As if these silly stories truly mattered to her. Hid breath hitched at her compliment - it was a small thing, but the compliment felt… real. Tangible.

“Merely the result of a youth spent with far too much time on my hands and unrestricted access to a library that held far too many dusty books.” He shrugged. “I should warn you that my knowledge is rather outdated, by almost three centuries. It is entirely possible that there are new constellations out there, undiscovered stars that I don’t yet know about.”

But then she requested another story in a hopeful, excited voice, and Cyran was delighted to share his knowledge with someone for once.

He followed Del’s hand where she’d pivoted their arms, pointing at a cluster of stars at the other edge of the sky, only lightly obscured by a smattering of clouds. Cyran hummed, trying to spot the shape in the dots, but… something was off about it. A frown tugged at his lips as he tried to find that familiar pattern, but they weren’t connecting the way they ought to. Some spots were missing, others shifted in place, creating a rather distorted image.

“Huh. That can’t be right.”

When Del turned to look at him questioningly, Cyran traced out the pattern that should have been, that no longer was, with their intertwined hands in wordless explanation - as if trying to imprint that strangeness in the air for her to feel. “Well, the one that you’ve pointed to was the Auriga. The Charioteer.” He began to explain, trouble clinging to his voice. “But… it looks displaced.”

He didn’t ponder what could have caused such a thing.

Cyran already knew.

He remembered that horrible incident with the Sol Stone, of course. His own recollection of the incident was muddled, as if he were peering at the memories of the incident through a foggy lens. But Cyran had been there, he knew - even if the thoughts were difficult to grasp. Somehow, the knowledge that he’d once battled with the god of spacetime, and that the world had begun behaving strangely ever since, lingered in the back of his head, though he could not fully pinpoint when or where it had come to him. Cyran had never fully allowed himself to dwell on the consequences of that battle… or what might have happened to Ziev’s domain after his injury.

He’d thought that battle was an isolated incident, but the world was beginning to shift, and Cyran was finally beginning to see the consequences bleeding into the world.

As he’d lapsed into silence, Del stared at him, unabashed curiosity evident on her face. He did not need the runes of truth and insight etched into his skin to recognize as such.

Cyran sighed, feeling suddenly heavy. The sensation was jarring given how light he’d felt during their outing. But… something in him wanted to tell her about it, if only so she knew.

His shoulders sagged where he was partially leaning against her. “I think I have an idea of what is wrong with the sky, though it isn’t pleasant.”

He turned away from the stars, meeting her gaze head on - cold silver against warm gold. “This is going to sound rather crazy - trust me, I know - but some time ago, I…” He paused. “Or rather, we. There was a group of us there. I don’t know where and I don’t know how, but we encountered Ziev himself. He tried to kill us. We had to fight back, defend ourselves any way we could. We managed to escape, injuring Ziev in the meantime. And afterwards…”

He fell silent for a moment. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of the wind, faint, and the faint chirping of insects in the distance.

“We learned that the gods are dead.”

Cyran turned away from Del - he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps he feared Del’s reaction, or her ridicule. “I know it sounds a far-flung tale, but it’s the truth. You need only look at the proof in the sky… the sky itself is changing, morphing. The constellations no longer look as recognizable as they once did.”

How much longer until Cyran was no longer able to look at his same old sky?

As the conversation lapsed to silence, the two watching the sky in heavy silence, something… happened.

It was slight. But the stars that he and Del had been watching twinkle in the night’s sky began to fracture, like a spreading crack in broken glass. One star slowly began to leak into others through hairline cracks, the light so powerful that it could no longer be contained by the safety net of darkness. Cyran gripped Del’s hand, mouth hanging open as the stars began to leak through the cracks, until that light began to… fall.

Perhaps he should have been scared by this soft fracturing of the world, the vestiges of a vengeful god's mark on their crumbling world. But rather, the sight made him think, for some reason, of the young thief he’d once met and tested on Zarius’s request. It had been a while since Cyran had met Fish, but he could never forget that small wish, uttered on a rooftop after a mission.

“I have a friend… Fish.” He explained. “They once told me that they wished to steal the stars from the sky.” A childish wish, but one Cyran hoped he could fulfill. It seemed now, with the very sky falling gently around the two, little motes of power and light fracturing and splintering off into shooting stars, he wondered if he might be able to gift Fish some piece of the sky after all.

He turned to Del.

“Do you have a bottle with you?”

"'Merely' nothing," She scoffs gently, clearly teasing. Her smile was still broad and excited. "I still find that incredible. Your passion truly shines through. If there are new stars, or new constellations, perhaps we can... learn about them together?" The gentle earnestness in her tone bleeds through, with an askew lilt of her lips to match.

That was an excellent thing to have learned about Cyran; that so much of his childhood was spent reading, a lot of spare time and a lot of access to books. Where, she wondered, did his ability to use a knife come from, if that was how he had been raised.

It also sounded lonely. She wondered if it was.

But at the moment, Del is distracted by the promise of more stories, of learning about these shapes in the stars that people loved so much they had made whole tales for. But, something was wrong.

She follows the careful guiding of Cyran's hand in a shape that does not match the pattern of the stars. Her gaze drifts from what he outlines to his face, puzzled, a little concerned by the frown that etches into his face, the disconcerted tone in his voice. Whoever this Charioteer was, his stars were falling to pieces. Cyran's eyes are far away again, and a silence falls between them. Del holds still, quietly, patiently waiting. Her gaze does not flinch or turn aside; only watches his Cyran's face as he moves though his thoughts. Nothing but the wind and distant insects to punctuate the silence around them, nipping the edges of their shared cloak and tugging at their hair.

When he finally sighs, Del closes her hand over his, offering a silent reassurance. It still electrifies her, of course, but this time her contact is out of sincere concern, an offer of safe harbour from the words on the tip of his tongue as he lowers his moonlight eyes to hers. "You can tell me." Whatever it was, it was bad, she knew.

It was.

But he does share it, turning his gaze away from her as if he cannot bear the truth that falls from his lips. Her mind reels; the gods...? All dead? And Cyran had been there, with others, when Ziev was injured. He was right, it was unbelievable. On paper, ludicrous, even. And yet, believe him she did. Wholly.

Some things made sense now. Why there had been no recent attacks (being called a heretic in Zeinav came to mind) from these groups she had been trying to avoid; why there were whispers in the streets; the Crown trying to reassure everyone; why war was on the wind. What to say to that? The weight of the truth presses even on her, and she wasn't even there. Clearly, this, witnessing the impact of the stars, had an effect on him. She feels that loss acutely; the very sky above them was changing. Never more than now had Del felt as though they were on the precipice of something. It was daunting.

But right now, there was a wonderful soul beside her who was troubled by the stars he had so loved becoming warped above him. And it is there that Del leaves her focus.

Del does not know what to say, but she does her best. Her hand squeezes his a thumb sweeping across his knuckles. "I believe you," she says softly. Her gaze does not shrink or shift; there is nothing but open compassion in her amber eyes. She had so may questions, about the group, this fight, how they had met Ziev of all beings, and what he thought this all meant for the world, for them. But those can come later. For now, there is the moment, this moment of sorrow and uncertainty that she can see in his face. There is nothing she can do about the stars, no matter how much she would like to put the sky back together if only to see him smile. But be in this moment with him?

That, she can do.

"Thank you for telling me." She adds solemly, blinking once, slowly a ghost of a smile on her lips. It was terrible news, the repercussions she could only guess at... but Del was-- genuinely-- glad to know.

She lets her shoulder rest against his a little more as they stare up at the sky. The way they looked so far above made Del a little sad. It was something broken that she could not fix. But then... something changes. She squints as one of the flickers of light in the sky seems to grow, expanding. Yes, like a crack, growing brighter until it illuminated the clouds. Energy shoots up her arm where Cyran's grip squeezes her hand, but she is so lost in the moment, the leaking of starlight from a crack in the sky, that she holds fast to him, just as tight.

"Oh," Is all Del can say, softly. It was... beautiful. Terrible, but beautiful and raw as red blood seeping from a cut.

Then Cyran looks to her, eyes wide and suddenly eager. She blinks, still processing the stars falling from the sky, when he says the name Fish. She blinks rapidly, her memory kicking into gear. "I-- wait. Fish?"" She smiles, unbidden. "Little Kenku, speaks through sign? Them? Did they say that?" She emits an air light laugh-- that did sound so much like Fish-- and then catches on to what Cyran is saying. The stars were falling. Fish wanted to steal one.

"Oh!" she reaches down to her tool pouch at her hip, patting herself down until she finds what she's looking for. "Yes of course, here!" She produces a small glass bottle, stopped with a cork, useful in mixing varnish while on the road. "How do you know them-- no," Del waves a hand in front of her face, as if trying to dismiss her own distraction. "This first, this first." She presses the bottle into Cyran's hands, beaming. "It's worth a try!"

“If there are any new ones, I would love to learn.” He had no idea the kind of truth that might linger behind that statement, reflected in the changes in the sky. Changes he only began to notice moments later, a wrongness that clung like a blanket. All at once, the peaceful illusion of staring at the same sky all at once - at the thought of sharing these sights with Marlow - shattered. It was a silly thing to mourn, really, but out of everything that had come of the Ziev fight, this small wonder was the last thing he’d expected to lose.

Then again, nor had he expected to gain a confidante.

The story he’d woven was insane, really. Cyran would not have blamed her in the least if Del declared him insane, or reacted with disbelief or disgust. But when she declared her belief in his story, the truth rang clear as day in her voice, unwavering. Firm. “I… of course.” Cyran hummed, unease lingering in the back of his mind. “I only bring it up because the world is beginning to change around us, and… it all feels so fast.” A matter of months was nothing in the span of a century’s worth of experience. With that kind of age came timeless experience, but it also brought a daunting fear of change, the feeling that everything was happening too quickly. There wasn’t enough time. Today, the stars - what tomorrow?

How long did they have before the gods’ domains began to crumble one by one without their presence to maintain the peace? How long until the earth crumbled and the sun’s gentle flames extinguished, or Lunala’s moon became eclipsed? Everything had been fine so far. Obviously, the world had kept moving in the wake of the Collapse. But those carefully-placed seals protecting the world from the burden of the truth, isolating them from the rest of the universe, had broken, and there was no telling what would happen next. And amidst it all, Cyran was not sure he could keep up.

“I just want you to know that. Anything could happen - I mean, just look what’s happened to the stars.” He gestured to the still-open wounds in the sky, cracking and growing in that small chunk before their very eyes. It was a sight as horrifying as it was beautiful.

“Yes, the kenku - you’ve met them, too?” Good - that saved him time explaining things. Not that Del needed much in the way of explanation for his odd request. The motes of light were falling around the two, Cyran’s vision of the rooms in the orphanage brought to life, and Del rushed to grab them a bottle, excited. Cyran bolted to his feet, feeling a bit like a child running to catch fireflies. “Yes! Good!” He reached out a hand, catching one in his palm. Rather than the burning sensation he expected, the light felt ice-cold to the touch. The light and the shadows blended together, playing off his face, as he ran over to Del and dumped it in the bottle.

“We should catch as many as we can.” Who knew how long this would last? The two immediately set off, attempting to get their hands on as much as they could.

Cyran remembered sitting with Marlow once, years ago. She could not have been more than five. They’d been lucky enough to witness a meteor shower, small streaks smeared across the sky like they’d been been brought to life with a painter’s brush. He’d gripped her hand, pointing up into the air.

“Look, a shooting star. Make a wish, my songbird.”

“I want a pony!” Her voice had been alight with glee as she kicked her legs in the air.

“You’re not supposed to tell me what you’ve wished for, Poppet, or it won’t come true.” He laughed. Of course, that didn’t stop the pony from magically manifesting in their stables the next morning, much to Marlow’s delight. She never seemed to understand the tradition, and forever more would boldly exclaim her wishes to the heavens whenever they had the chance to witness more.

The memory came so sudden that he could not contain the tears budding in the corners of his eye - nor the smile on his face. Yes, the future was uncertain, and watching the stars crumble away was like the hallmark of the end. There were a lot of things in that moment Cyran could have wished for.

And yet, right now, as he and Del went through the motions of running after the fallen star bits, catching them and depositing them in the bottle with gleeful abandon, he didn’t need any of them.

Cyran was content.

"That's exactly why I appreciate knowing," Del tries to assure him. This was something Cyran had been keeping to himself for a while, by his own admission. But now, it had started leaking out, like the cracks in the sky, the cracks in the earth... was this connected to the sudden influx of earthquakes? Del made a note of this; if things were only getting worse, then she would need to have contingencies. Cyran was right; anything could happen. How could she possibly prepare for something that had no precedent?

Precedent or no, a feeling of serenity grew within her chest. To be able to have an honest, vulnerable exchange with someone who Del... trusted? Yes, that was the word. Trust. How odd a feeling, to find herself being able to rely on someone so readily. If things were to change, for worse or better, then she wanted to endure it, to see it through here. Whether that was the calling she had felt that led her to Darkveil in the first place or some other, more tangible feeling mattered little right now.

Del had said she would stay, and stay she would.

That realization makes Del as breathless as the sudden scampering they had to do to catch the motes of light descending from on high. Cyran bolted out from under the shared warmth of their cloak, but she did not feel cold despite his absence, too busy trying to help him catch the twinkling bits of starlight before they could fall too far out of reach. If anything, she feels warmer. A bright laugh not unlike the one that left her when they climbed up here in the first place rings out from the top of the spire.

What ephemera this was, to run through streaks of light like a child. She could not know for sure, but Del was positive that in all her life, she had never done anything like this.

Cyran catches one and Del cheers, applauding lightly against the glass of the jar. The way the flickers of light morph the shadows on Cyran's face highlights his features, the plain awe of his expression brought on her own to see how deeply it was moving him. When the mote is deposited in there, she holds it up, beaming. "Well done! Ohhh, this will be perfect! How many do you think we can get?" She asks, calling out as he runs off again to catch yet more. Del does the same, carefully darting over the surface of the spire to snag one from the air.

"I got one! Oh! It's cold!" She laughs brightly, cradling the little glowing light close to her chest wonder. She deposits it in the jar and dashes around again, shifting slightly so as not to collide with Cyran, spinning on the ball of her foot around him as she plucks another on its descent. Del holds it up to her face to inspect, head tilting. "They're so brilliant, aren't they?" She looks at him with a smile, and tucks the mote into the jar, offering Cyran to do the same.

She pauses, catching the sparkles of moisture at the corners of his eyes. And yet, his smile was wide and bright. Del's chest clenches again, not sure what she is feeling. Concern? Joy? Whatever it is, she returns that smile.

There is a signifigance to what they are doing in Del's eyes. They are preserving a piece of the world's wonder in a time when it was no longer certain what would happen next. They are looking the storm in the eye and choosing to dance in the rain. Motes of hope and starlight, as they wheeled together at the top of the world.

“As much as we can carry!” He called back, raising his hands above his head and hopping to catch one brightly-streaking star before it could land. The mote of light sparkled against the palm of his hand, stray sparks striking his skin and leaving behind that same chill. He cradled them in his hand, dancing to the tune of Del’s delighted laughter at the sight of the little stars. He stared at it in wonder, reaching out to touch it with his other hand. It did not burn, but that same chill lingered.

“Fascinating.” He whispered, craning his neck to stare back up at the night sky. “I wonder if this is how big they truly are.” They always looked so little in the sky, but from a great distance, one might have expected them to be bigger. These little rays of light were what lit up the sky, even in the darkest crevices, allowed sailors to navigate their way home, held stories of ages old for future generations.

“Such big expectations for something so small.”

Del’s bright voice pulled him out of his musings. Cyran turned just in time to see Del holding the star close to her chest, a wondrous expression on her face, the kind of childlike innocence of someone who had just witnessed a miracle for the first time.

That strange, hummingbird buzzing in his chest felt a little tighter.

“Yes, brilliant.”

Whether he was talking about the stars or the sight of Del holding them, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was both.

He startled when Del got close enough to offer him the jar. “Oh, right. Of course.” He offered out his hand to drop in the stars that he’d caught into the jar. They’d collected a sizable amount by now, almost enough to fill the jar entirely. And above them, the shower was beginning to slow to a drizzle. Cyran and Del caught a few more together, the last remnants of the once-whole sky. A piece of the chariot constellation that no one would be able to see anymore once they gazed upon the sky - it belonged to Fish alone. Cyran was happy to give that to them, at least.

The sky felt emptier by the time they finished. Darker. The shadows clung a little closer to Cyran as he turned to Del. Mixed feelings were churning in his gut. Grief, affection, happiness… but the bottle she held in her hand felt a worthy effigy for that loss. They’d managed to save something from disappearing completely. “Right then… I suppose it’s gotten rather late, hasn’t it?” They’d pushed, wrung as much time out of this day as they could, but it had to come to an end sometime, no matter how Cyran wished to keep whatever this was going.

With Del’s agreement, he would call forth his wings once more, and he would help her to the ground from the spire. He moved slowly, allowing them both to feel the cool wind in their hair, as if this small act of rebellion, too, would prevent the night from coming to an end. He released her when they touched the ground, wings melting away once more. “There. Not too bumpy, I hope.”

He brushed some spare ash from her cloak, and without thinking about it, tucked one of her curls behind her ear the way he might for Cirice. The casual moment of care didn’t seem to register with him, not as they made their way to the street. Even this late at night, there was a large number of couples out on the street, a happy buzz in the air. Was there some kind of event he wasn’t aware of? Cyran wracked his brain, combing through what this could possibly be. He normally tried to keep on top of events, if only because large crowds served as an open invitation for killers to commit public assassinations, but he didn’t think that Darkveil was throwing any festivals today. This month, there was only…

“Oh.” Cyran stopped in his tracks, face turning a deep shade of red. He glanced at Del out of the corner of his eye. Had she put together what day today was yet? Did she realize the implications of what they’d just done?

“Oh, goodness.”

"i don't know," Del reaches up to delicately catch another, gazing at it for another moment before it to is deposited in the jar. "Maybe they're fragments of something bigger, or maybe they're part of whatever the source of the glow was? Either way, they're just... beautiful."

It was such a sight to behold, to see Cyran running around like this; normally so composed and cautious, the abandon with which he took to the task of gathering the droplets of light before they could descend too far to the city below felt like a secret, one only she knew. That made something in her chest swell a little, being able to see this side of him-- and how rare, too, like the falling of stars themselves, as though they had aligned just for this purpose. Serendipity, surely, to be able to learn this about Cyran in this way. She was glad of it.

Altogether too soon, the motes of light begin to run dry. As the last of them trickle into nothing, Del looks down at the bottle of starlight in her hands. It still felt heavy, like watching the last leaf of summer subside to leaf. At least there was this, and the memory that remained. And it was going to a wonderful little kenku, too. Her gaze lifts to him, trying to read the expression on his face, a mix of things. There was sorrow there, the loss of the stars poignant to her as well, but it was made bearble by the sharing of this experience with someone... so singularly wonderful.

"That it has," She sighs, giving him a sheepish smile. Part of her thought to apologise for keeping him out so late, but she was having a hard time feeling sorry for it. Perhaps that was selfish... though, she could not deny that she had achieved her goal of getting Cyran to take a break and relax. That was something she could not in good conscience apologise for.

Especially not when she would have loved to continue it for as long as they could.

The offer of his wings to descend has her accepting quickly, interested in how it would feel to sink back to the earth so slowly, as though they were the captured stars themselves. It's not until she is pressed close to him that she realizes what flying down on his shadowy bat wings would entail, and her heart jumps into her throat. It's slow and methodical, a drifting that allows her to see the city rising up to meet them, all while she can feel Cyran's hair brushing past hers as they reach the ground.

Del shakes her head, smiling widely, her face flushed from the prolonged contact. She can't bring herself to fret about it, feeling so serene after everything the had done this evening. "Not even a little. Your wings are incredible, I've never done anything like that before. Thank you for--"

Her breath catches in her throat as Cyran brushes some ash from her cloak-- his cloak-- and lifts his hand to gingerly move her hair behind her ear. Heat rises to her face so fast she is sure steam is pouring out of her ears, a flash of tingling sparks from where his skin brushed hers dancing along her nerves. It's a gesture so tender, attentive, affectionate, that she has to resist the urge to reach up to trace the line of his fingers tucking her wayward curls behind her ear. As they turn to go back into the street proper, it gives Del a moment to collect herself, and she clears her throat, a little hoarser now. "--for that." All of it.

The streets themselves are a little busier than usual at this time of night, with so many pairs arm in arm than earlier, Del notes. There was a light, happy chatter that surrounded them, full of a saccharine sweetness that Del found herself smiling at. Ah, young love. What a delight to see. But... odd, though that there would be this many. She thinks to the season, the month, the week, working backwards to the date--

"Oh."

Now. Now was the time to panic.

She pauses in unison with Cyran, immediately flustered. She... had intended to ask him away for a walk, a sojurn to give him a break. She'd even said as much. Oh, gods, had she-- did she ask him on a date without realizing? On Hearth's Day, of all times?!

The fact that he had technically asked her first slips her mind, dismissed by the fact that this had originally been an errand that they had extended far beyond its normal time line. Because if it had been a date, if he had asked her to accompany him with the intent of celebrating Hearth's Day, then he would have said so, surely. He was such an intelligent, careful and methodical man, there was nothing that slipped his notice. So now realizing that she had essentially asked him on... on a date, and now, was he-- yes, perhaps, there was a colour rising to his face-- seeing the intent of her getting him out for a break had created a pretense Del had not been prepared for. Which, gods, meant there was an expectation wasn't there? It was Hearth's Day, and while she did not regret how she had spent it at all, Del was definitely kicking herself for not being better prepared.

"Ah," is the almost squeak of a reply to Cyran's realization.

Gift.

She needed a gift.

"--uh, yes, um, what's say we, ah, swing through the market on our way back?" She clears her throat, but her voice is pitched a bit high still. "There are a lot of... vendors about, no? --If there's time of course, I don't want to keep you long if we have to get back." she adds in a rush, aware that it was already late. Hells bells.

“The wings are… a good consequence born of a lot of misfortune.” He admitted. A symptom of the sickly shadows that had infected him and made their home in his empty soul. “Nevertheless, I am pleased that you enjoyed the ride. I don’t give them out often.” That last part was spoken in a light, joking manner. The strain in her voice gave him pause, only for him to realize exactly what he’d done. He pursed his lips, bashful, as the two made their way down the street.

Goodness, I hope I haven’t made her uncomfortable…

That thought, and the revelation that today was Hearth’s day of all days, made him run through the day with a fine-tooth comb, wondering how many of his well-intentioned actions could have been read as romantic. Had he been acting so forward this whole time? Would Del look back upon everything and see the same thing? The thought was mortifying. Cyran had not thought of anything in a romantic sense in a long time. Such things were… difficult, when there was no time for it in a loveless marriage, a union of two disparate souls with nothing in common, bound together of obligation. He’d felt love in plenty of forms before - familial, friendship. But romantic inclinations were not things he thought about.

But now that those accidental implications were on the table, Cyran had no idea how to act.

“Oh, yes, a gift.” That was a custom, wasn’t it? Plenty of people got one another gifts on Hearth’s Day, whether it was just friendship or otherwise. A new task placed in front of him, Cyran turned his attention to this new mission with laser-focus. A gift… he needed to get Del something to show her his appreciation for the time spent in her company, as well as her friendship. “It’s a bit late, but given that there are still people around, we should have time to find something.”

It felt a little silly, but the last thing Cyran wanted to do was to make Del think he didn’t appreciate her company. The only natural thing was to lead Del through the streets, making his way with haste in search of something - anything - that might still be open at this hour. Sharp eyes poured over stalls and stores through the crowd, unable to spot anything of note aside from a couple of taverns and food stalls. Until, small miracle of miracles, he spotted a single man at the edge of the town square, packing up a cloth full of goods. From here, it was difficult to parse what they might be selling, but it would have to do.

“Over there!” Cyran nudged Del in the side, grabbing her attention. The two broke into a sprint, making their way to the vendor before he closed up shop entirely - but they were too far away to make it in time on foot. Without truly thinking of what he was doing, Cyran melted into the shadows cast by the night, only a beat later to reappear behind the merchant, no time having passed at all from his sudden dip into the realm of shadows.

Simply… one second, he was running next to Del, and the next, he was standing next to the vendor, who had only just noticed the tall wisp of a man lurking between him and his exit route, having manifested from nowhere.^[1]

“Solaria’s Might-!” The vendor clutched at his chest, nearly jumping half a foot in the air. “Begone, foul ghost! Return to the realm of the dead from whence you came!”

Cyran rubbed at the back of his neck. “Erm, I’m not a ghost…” He trailed off, unsure what to say. His eyes flicked towards Del, who had enough time to catch up to them now that Cyran had stopped the vendor. Within seconds, she had burst through the crowd, jogging up to the two of them and coming to a halt.

“I’m sorry to frighten you, sir. It’s just that my friend and I noticed you from the other side of the street and were hoping to peruse your wares. It’s Hearth’s Day, and we were hoping you might have something appropriate for gifts…”

The vendor looked between Cyran and Del, rubbing at his chin as he attempted to draw conclusions between what might be happening between the two elves, one of which was wearing what was obviously a man’s cloak. It was a damning picture, one Cyran had never meant to paint. He might have looked at them and seen a forgetful couple, hasty to buy last-minute gifts for one another. But even more importantly than that was their desperation.

“… Looking for gifts at Hearth’s Days end? Gee, the romance is really alive, ain’t it?” He chuckled until Cyran shot him a sharp look, and he hastily set his cloth back down on the table, unwrapping it to allow the two a closer look at what he carried.

It was jewelry.

Cheap, wrought-iron jewelry that looked like it had been hammered with clumsy hands and low-grade materials. They came in all shapes, sizes, and colors, anything from necklaces, which didn’t look as if they would last more than a day on those rusted chains. But the rings - those looked promising.

Cyran glanced up at the vendor. “How much?”

“A piece’ll cost ya at least 30 solars.”

That seemed entirely unfair given how they looked, but Cyran wasn’t going to waste this opportunity. He leaned over the table, peering at the selection for something worthy of Del. Nothing particularly stood out to him, though, not until he spotted a rather plain ring at the edge of the table, one with a dark purple center that looked like it contained a swirling miasma of the cosmos. A memento to the stars.

Cyran picked it up, appraising its weight in its hand. But even as he held it, Cyran already knew that this small, modest piece of metal was right.

“Yes, this is it.”

---

1. Shadow Walk (Shadow Dancer IV)

It was sad to hear that his wings had such an unhappy connotation to them. She truly did think them lovely, but she coud see there was something heavy about them. Something to ask about... and potentially see if they could do again. --With him. The wings. Gods.

Her mind is in two thousand different places at once, but hearing Cyran catch on to her less than subtle suggestion is a relief, giving her whirling thoughts some direction. There was time for it, to find him something. Whatever her intention had been at the outset, to get to learn more about her friend and encourage him to take some time to enjoy himself, now it had become a fierce determination to find Cyran something that would convey her appreciation of him. That said 'you are wonderful and you have done so much for me in my short time here. I value you'. Or something to that effect.

"Yes, shouldn't take too long," Del provides an encouraging little smile as they set off. He knew these streets far better than she did, and so Del follows close behind, matching his pace as he guides them carefully through the market, around alleys and corners. It seems everywhere they turn for a while, that there's no open stalls, or at least no vendors selling anything but fried food for the tipsy, love drunk couples meandering the streets. When Cyran calls out that he sees someone with his gentle nudge, she quickly starts to sprint-- it looks too far off. She turns to ask Cyran, if his wings would allow them to fly there faster-- oh.

Where was Cyran?

The shadows had moved, shifted, welcomed him, and then he was simply... gone. Ahead, in the direction they had been running, there is a shout of alarm. It returns Del's attention and she sees, with relief and amusement, Cyran standing before this man who had apparently been terrified by his sudden appearance.

As she catches up, she gives Cyran a congratulatory smile for being able to stop the man in time for them to ask if he had anything for sale. The shopkeeper sizes them up with a gleam in his eye, reading how they appeared before him despite Cyran's placating explanation of why they were here. Or, perhaps because of it. The urgent need to see his wares did make them good marks. Without knowing, she and Cyran give a stern look in unison at the man for his... comment. Del holds her tongue as he quickly lays his inventory out again on the cloth.

She tries to hold her expression steady and not be outraged by this man fleecing people out of coin with his... his poor excuse for jewelry, if it could even be called that. Some of these looked as though they'd been fished out of a river, or had been hodgepodged together with scrap. As a smith, she was thoroughly unimpressed. If she had time, the workshop, she could make Cyran something a thousand times better than this-- this--

As her eyes drop to the rings, she spots one in particular that catches her eye. She takes a small breath in as she reaches down to pick it up; its a hammered metal, dense and strong, with a deep blue ring of fractal light running along the centre, like a river... or an aurora. The patterns of hammered steel itself remind her of glittering knives, softened by the astral blue light. A promise, a path, an acceptance. At the edges, engraved alternatingly along the hammered metal, are little forget-me-nots, a five petaled pattern she quickly recognizes. It felt like holding a piece of something rare and precious, something that she recognized deep in her bones. It was perfect.

"This, please," Del holds up the ring. "Thirty solars, yes?"

Whatever the price was, she would gladly pay it. Once they had finished, thanking this illbegotten man and his mis-mash of jewlry, she turns to walk with Cyran back home, to the orphanage.

"Think you might win the next race too, if you do that," Del chuckles softly as they depart the vendor, alluding to his sudden movement through shadow earlier. She taps the little parcel in her pocket, nervousness now fluttering again in her chest instead of a panicked worry she had overstepped. They both had rings; they were firmly on equal ground. "Should, ah, we exchange now, or back at Shade's Valley?"

Cyran was a touch too desperate to care about the fact he was getting ripped off thirty solars for a cheap piece of metal. In their desperation, both he and Del were more than willing to fork over the necessary money for the rings they’d both chosen - he tried to get a better look at the one that had caught Del’s eye, but she hid it from his prying eyes before he could get a closer look. He tucked his own securely in his pocket in turn. Two could play at that game, and far be it from him to try and ruin a surprise.

“You two have a romantic evening, now!” The vendor hastily packed up his things and bolted before either of them could think better of what they’d bought - or worse, take a closer look at the rings. If he were being honest, Cyran didn’t care about the quality for himself. Fine things had never suited him. He took to them like a noble’s robe that sat a few sizes too big, and he felt much more comfortable after shedding those trappings. He was content with such a modest existence. But for some reason, not being able to gift those things to Del only served to solidify some kind of feeling of inadequacy on his behalf. Del deserved a sturdier ring than he could give her.

But it was what he could give her, for now.

The ring still felt oddly heavy in his pocket as they walked back down the street, unable to prolong their return to the orphanage any more. There was so much left to take care of - preparing the rooms, more errands, jobs that he’d been putting off in this bubble of happiness that had surrounded him with the presence of a visitor to the Valley. He’d put off the inevitable long enough, but it was time for him to return to everything that he’d neglected. But, oh, it had been a lovely outing, hadn’t it?

“Let’s wait until we’re back at the orphanage. We’re almost there.” Cyran replied. True to his word, in only a few minutes, not spent in any particular hurry to return home with all the weariness of two people who knew that the spell was about to end once the clock struck twelve. Eventually, the familiar stone building came into view, and the two made their way inside out of the ash. A fire still crackled in the fireplace, one that had likely been maintained by either Oriole or Andromeda quite recently. Cyran rubbed his hands together for a moment, attempting to ward off the chill that had permeated his bones.

Once he was warmed enough, Cyran reached a hand into his pocket and turned to Del. “I truly wish this had been more of a surprise for you - it was an oversight on my part to forget the date. After you got me out of the house and gave me a piece of something that I’d missed so dearly, it is only natural that I ought to give you something in return. It isn’t much, but please accept this ring as a token of my gratitude, and a promise to enjoy many more outings together. I still have many more constellations to show you, after all.”

He gave her a sheepish smile.

“Assuming they are still there to enjoy.”

He opened out his palm, gesturing for her to place her hand on it. Del blinked, confused for a moment, before she realized what Cyran was asking. With an understanding smile, she rested her warm, calloused hand on his. With slow, careful movements, he slipped his ring onto her finger.

There was something rather monumental about the movement, something he couldn’t place. As if all at once, the air around him suddenly grew larger, no longer just occupied by the shadows. Del stood there beside him too, as much a part of him as the shade.

He blinked, taken aback.

“Did… did you feel that, too?”