The midday sun has reached its peak in the sky by the time Mei returns to the exterior of the Rookery; but for a time, she is understandably reluctant to enter. Lyari’s calling card is tucked away safely in the crease of her palms; and silhouetted by the shadows of the tight-knit buildings of Darkveil, Mei watches the comings and goings of the Rookery’s patrons for a time.

Unnoticed in the shadows.

But at this time of day the Rookery doesn’t see much business; and it makes slipping into the Rookery unnoticed more difficult. She could wait until evening when the shadows are longer; she could stick to the corners of the Rookery, and hope that Eameia isn’t keen enough to notice her silent steps through some degree of her magic, but…

Mei takes a slow and steady breath; she closes her eyes from where she’s leaning her shoulder against a lamp post beneath the shadow of a nearby building.

She can’t just stand here and fight off waves of dread forever. She knows that she never had ill intentions; but the problem is convincing Zarius that she never had ill intentions. Zarius, who often seems so paranoid and cautious over the smallest of things, to the point where she’s never seen him drink in the presence of others; Zarius, who is her only real trusted ally and connection in Darkveil; and…

Shit.

Mei grimaces; she cuts off her train of thought with a sharp breath; and she threads her fingers through her pale locks as she forcibly gathers the determination she needs to push herself into the finality of motion— but she’s not going through the front of the Rookery.

Hell no she’s not.

She’s not ready to face Eameia; she’s not ready to face Eirynor; and she’s certainly not ready to face the tiefling himself.

But she needs to.

Internally, she scolds herself for cowardice as she takes her first few steps towards a place she’s only just come to view as somewhere beyond simply a place to lay her head at night. She steps from the shadows, only to vanish completely— a slosh of ink in the mid-day— which rises again on the other side of the street, cloaked in the shadows of the Rookery’s sheer height. ⁽¹⁾

She looks up at the building; her chest rises and falls in a slow, steady breath as she tracks her path up.

---

“Caedes!” A tiny whisper of a voice causes a chill to pass through him after he unlocks and slips through the window of his mid-story room in the Rookery from the outside. Charlotte’s little legs skitter across the wooden floor in her rush; she clambers over fallen bouquets of dried flowers, and books haphazardly tossed onto the floor; until she can crawl up onto the chair of his desk, which is pushed beneath his window.

No longer masqueraded in the safe space of the Rookery— or, what it used to be— Caedes’ pale eyes betray his relief upon seeing the spider. “Char,” The usual playful lilt of his voice has shifted into something grim; and a visible wince crosses his expression when Charlotte continues to try and press him.

“What happened!? Who were those people?”

His gaze drifts as he pushes himself onto his desk from the window sill; legs draped over the edge, he takes a moment to twist around; he closes and latches the latticed window behind him. A small weight crawls onto his ankle and works its way onto his knees while he does so.

“Zarius seemed really upset!”

A visible wince crosses his face before he looks back at Charlotte, who has navigated herself onto his lap. He doesn’t like how the confirmation makes his chest tighten over knowledge he already knows; but it hits harder when it’s spoken into reality; and an additional sliver of guilt pierces his chest when he sees and feels Charlotte quivering; she doesn't look betrayed, but something about her feels it. “And you didn’t even tell me!”

“... I know. I was doing a job, and you were already gone with Kvasir. It wasn’t really planned.”

He slips his arms beneath Charlotte and lifts the spider into his arms. He holds her close while he slides off the desk to right himself on the floor. He feels her legs tap and cling onto him like she might suddenly lose him again; and he tries not to entertain the idea that she might if things go ill with Zarius.

He’s been killed over less.

“I’m going to go talk to him, and I’ll explain everything to you when I get back.” he adds after his boots click against the old wood. Charlotte looks worried; which is concerning given her inability to show facial expressions; but it’s the fact that she’s still shaking that gives him concern. “Just… stay here for now, okay?”

“No…” Charlotte clings to his shirt even as he pulls her away from him; when one of her legs breaks free, she flails about wildly to get hold again. “No, I want to come with you.”

“Shh, I need you to stay here.”

“No!”

“Char— please—” When he gives up, the prismatic spider latches onto him, determined to remain despite his concerns that something could happen during his conversation with Zarius... Although, he hadn’t hurt Charlotte then— or yet— so, would he now?

“I deserve an explanation, too!”

Caedes closes his eyes and breathes a defeated sigh; he tries to ignore the gnawing dread of the coming conversation. “...Fine. You’re right, you are owed an explanation.” Charlotte doesn’t stop her clinging, but does seem to relax a little at his approval. “I want you to stay out of sight, though— okay? Can you at least humour me with that?”

Charlotte looks up at him for a moment, before letting the light fall over her; in a split moment, Charlotte is invisible to most. He feels her slowly work her way off his chest and up to his shoulder, where she perches with her body leaned against the side of his neck.

Another flicker of guilt hilts him, and he hates it as much as the last; but he is in the wrong, regardless of the fact that the opportunity had been such a whiplash that he hadn’t had time to run it over with Zarius, nor Charlotte.

He reaches up to scratch the side of her cheek as he moves forwards—

—and he reaches the door to Zarius’ room far too soon.

There’s a thousand thoughts that cross through his mind as he slows his steps.

And no matter how this will end, none of those rapidly blinking considerations at the forefront of his mind will stop him from rapping against the door in hopes— and dread— that the tiefling is behind it somewhere.

---

^{(1) Shadow Walk (Two Post Cooldown)}

Caedes had the right idea of sneaking in. Had he chosen to come through the front he would have had to deal with Eameia and Snow. After Zarius returned to the Rookey, he assured Kvasir that things would be fine and provided him with some money to make the journey home easier.

He had already given Eameia an update on the actions their father was going to take now that negotiations with the merchants fell through. Though she is concerned about what this means for their family and their business, Eameia pressed him for different information. Information Zarius adamantly refrained from sharing. She isn't happy about being left in the dark, but relented seeing how upset her brother was upon returning from their family estate.

Zarius’ room is quiet when Caedes approaches the door. In fact, the entirety of the Rookery is pretty quiet. There isn’t much noise coming from the lounge or the other rooms down the halls. There's almost a solemn and tense atmosphere hanging in the halls. The lights are kept low, making for an ample number of shadows for one particularly pesky kitten to be lurking within. Though even the little terror was seemingly absent from the halls.

A bit of light does glow from the underside of Zarius’ door, indicating that he is present. The tiefling is sitting in one of the chairs next to the fireplace opposite of his personal study and the loft where his bed is. The fire is lit and crackling as he tears pages out of a ledger and throws the crumpled up paper into the flames.

He glances up at the sound of someone knocking on his door. He doesn’t immediately get up, waiting for whoever it is to say something. When there’s nothing but silence, he rises to his feet and puts the book down on the side table next to an empty crystal glass.

Walking over to the door, his boot heels click against the polished wooden floor until he pauses at the door. He has an idea of who could be bothering him at this hour given recent events, but he hardly had any energy to really prepare for the inevitable encounter. He pauses at the door, resting one hand on the handle of the door as he takes a deep breath.

Upon opening the door, Zarius stands before Caedes looking absolutely exhausted. The events of the past few days have left him ragged from lack of sleep. He hid it well at the docks, but now he puts no effort into his usual smiling façade.

In addition to not wearing any semblance of a welcoming smile, he was also not wearing his long coat or arm wraps. Instead just having a loose fitting white shirt tucked in around his waist. The rest of his gear Caedes had seen him in earlier that very morning laid draped over one of the ladder rungs leading up to the loft.

He looks Caedes up and down briefly before stepping away from the door, leaving it open for the changeling to follow. He doesn’t say anything as he walks back over to the pair of chairs next to the fireplace.

As he passes by the side table, he picks up the book once more before taking a seat with a sigh. His fingers trace the edges of the leather cover briefly before he opens it up and thumbs through to the ripped out pages.

"So, the Red Rogue himself graces me with his presence." His voice is quiet in contrast to the sound of tearing paper as he rips another page from the book. "Or would you prefer 'herself'?" He crumples the page in his hand before tossing it into the fire and watching it reduce to nothing more than ashes.

"You can have your throwing knives back, by the way." He gestures to the few blades sticking out of the wooden door frame without making any eye contact with the changeling.

Silence hangs in the air following three rapt taps against Zarius’ door; and it falls unnaturally heavy in the following quiet. His gaze shifts, warily glancing over his shoulder towards the railing of the staircase with an edge of paranoia; but no sound comes even from the lobby downstairs. There’s no pitter patter of stalking cat paws, nor the clink of glasses, nor the drone of idle conversation.

There’s no one here— that he can see— but himself.

In a strange way it feels lonely.

His gaze flickers when he hears a series of clicks; footsteps which approach the door, and sends a chill up his spine. This is exactly what he intended, exactly where he needed Zarius to be, but— the doorknob turns as Caedes takes a hesitant step back— his mind races, but his body stills.

The crash of guilt that washes over him is immediate; Zarius looks exhausted, so much so that he’s not even trying to hide it. It’s rare to not see Zarius perfectly put together, wearing an expression different from his usual sly grin— and there’s something foreign about it. No sound comes from the tiefling, and likewise, Caedes doesn’t say anything.

He waits, watching the tilt of Zarius’ head when he looks him over, and then steps away to allow him inside. His chest tightens with an amalgamation of emotions he finds hard to decipher; but he obediently slips after Zarius with an air of formality and attention that the changeling usually lacks in his presence.

He turns to close the door behind him, his hesitance near palpable when he turns just enough to witness his own throwing knives jutting from its wooden frame. He tenses at seeing them, his grip tightening on the doorknob when he hears the rip of paper from near the fireplace.

Zarius’ voice feels like something foreign; it’s interrupted by the rip of parchment and the hiss of flame as he tosses it into the fire. For a moment, Caedes remains near the door, brows furrowing quizzically at the tiefling’s silhouette; what is he burning?

Whatever it is feels like a bad omen; it does little to ease his nerves.

Still silent, Caedes winces and turns his pale eyes towards his knives once more, and slowly releases the doorknob after the door has clicked shut. He doesn’t know what to say. The tiefling has left him speechless, which is unusual for him; instead, he breathes a slow sigh. In the quiet of Zarius’ room, it feels too loud; so too do his footsteps, which click against the old floor as he approaches Zarius’ chair by the fireplace.

On a normal day he might harangue the tiefling by draping himself over the back of his lounging chair, or just being a general nuisance; but today’s not a normal day, and hell knows he doesn’t have the gall to push his luck. He passes Zarius’ chair without a word, quietly standing at attention just adjacent to him.

For a moment, he looks into the fire; gaze flicking to catch how much ash has gathered, before he dares to look at him.

Getting his voice to work with him is harder than usual, but he manages; although, the tone of his voice isn’t quite what he intended. It’s not necessarily meek, but it comes out much more tepid than usual, “Had I known you or your family was involved in the other side of this in any way, I would never have taken that job.” he starts; there’s an uncertainty, a hesitance in his tone. “I had no idea to do so would…” Caedes trails off, trying to find the word; his eyes drift back to the warm flames flickering in the fireplace. “...compromise your name.”

A small pocket of silence interrupts his thoughts; he considers handing over Lyari’s calling card, but he’s afraid to see it grace the ashes of the fireplace before Zarius even so much as looks at it. Instead, he stamps down his pride and the excuses that so easily want to slip through to poison his words, and forces himself to continue.

“She told me who we were robbing; but I’d never heard their names in relation to you or your family. I would never have assumed they were affiliated with you, but I was clearly wrong. I should have looked further into it before I did anything, or come to you first; and I risked not only your life, but your family’s as a result. I have been in this business long enough to know that I should have known better than to go off assumption.”

The changeling doesn’t move, but he ducks his head enough to look at the tips of his boots.

“It excuses nothing: but to harm you— or your family— was never my intention. I can explain, if you're willing to hear me out; and for what it's worth, if anything, I... I am sorry.” After a brief moment, there’s a hesitant and nervous addition. “Is Eirynor okay?”

Zarius watches Caedes out of the corner of his eye as the changeling moves to stand next to him. His body tenses. He would have preferred if the changeling had taken a seat rather than hover nearby.

In this moment of privacy with the faint smell of smoke and alcohol hanging in the air, the tiefling wears the anger, the frustration, the regret, and the hurt very plainly before the changeling. That in itself is uncomfortable for Zarius. He is not used to showing vulnerability, even around those he trusts.

Glancing towards the fireplace, Caedes would notice a fair amount of ash has gathered at the bottom. The book that Zarius holds in his hands looks like it only has a few pages left in it.

The tiefling shifts in his chair, feeling the weight of what is left in the book in his hand. At one time, the book held information important for conducting business with the merchants. Possible deals and further negotiations, trade routes, smuggling contracts, other details his family had spent months preparing in advance.

None of it mattered anymore. It was all just kindling.

He takes a shaky breath. “I suppose I cannot blame you. It is not like I have told you everything.”

Maybe if he had been more trusting of the changeling and transparent this would have never happened. He thought he was protecting his family and their work by keeping things hush hush. Clearly that caution had its own consequences.

Zarius snaps the book closed and tosses the whole thing into the fire. Sitting back in the chair, he silently listens as the changeling starts to explain himself. For a moment, he closes his eyes. He can feel the anger welling up inside him, the burning desire to lash out, to blame someone other than himself for everything that happened, but he tempers it and keeps his composure to the best of his ability.

"It is fine. Eirynor is fine.”

He opens his eyes and watches the fire as it chars the leather exterior of the book he threw into the flames. It wrinkles and curls in the heat with the edges blackening and flaking off into ash.

“It is probably for the best that it was my family and not one of the more powerful families. You may have not gotten away so easily had one of the top three been involved.” Crossing one leg over the other knee, he waves a hand dismissively before folding his arms in front of his chest. “Anyway, those merchants will not be doing business in Darkveil. I am certain their competitors will be merrily celebrating that fact this Winter's Crown."

Finally, he looks up at Caedes, studying his expression. The guilt does not go unnoticed, nor the anxiety. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Caedes was still a fairly young man who had yet to make all the mistakes that would later bud into wisdom. This whole situation had been a mess for them both, and really, they should be relieved that neither of them killed the other during the conflicts across Darkveil.

“I assume you are aware of Miss Lyari’s connections to the Crimson Hand. Is that why you took on the job? To get closer to them?”

The smell of alcohol lingers in the air; enough to make Caedes tilt his gaze towards the empty glass on Zarius’ side table— he’s never actually seen the tiefling drink before, which is…

…

He chooses not to think about it; there’s enough in Zarius’ amber gaze, the way he holds his body language, and his overall stance that tells him exactly how Zarius feels. There’s no hiding the breadth of betrayal that the tiefling might feel in the privacy of his room; and something in him seems determined to label this misunderstanding as such.

Yet again, he would almost prefer for Zarius to be openly mad with him; he watches the tiefling toss the rest of the book into the fire.

“Even so, I acted too quickly.” he adds, “I never came to you with the proposition when I should have.”

— and it's true. This easily could have been avoided by Zarius telling him about their family’s relation to the merchants just as easily as it could have been avoided by Caedes taking the time to return to the Rookery to leave a note, or inform him of what was happening.

Neither happened.

In a way, it is both of their wrongdoings; although the origin of secrecy could have been something more well-intentioned; the results have caused more damage than anything else. But the level of humility that Zarius shows, even by simple admission, is more than could be said for most crime lords in the Ash Lands; it's so foreign, that Caedes instinctually wants to take the brunt of the blame back.

Upon Zarius' admission that Eirynor is okay, the changeling's shoulders relax a fraction.

“I’m glad.”

Silence stretches between them again for but a moment, interrupted by only the popping of the flames. He can’t help but breathe a grim laugh at Zarius’ mention of the top three, “No… I certainly wouldn’t have.” he answers; there’s some emotion— unidentifiable, but heavy, laced in his tone.

He falls silent when Zarius continues; something about the merchants not doing business in Darkveil; which could mean several things, depending on how the negotiations fell out. He doesn’t respond, brows furrowing slightly as he studies the fire like it’s holding something interesting.

It’s not, he just doesn’t want to meet Zarius’ gaze.

“... Sort of.” Caedes watches the last of the pages crackle in the fire when the tiefling questions him. “Miss Uldreyn was showing exasperation over her cooperation with the Crimson Hand,” he answers after a moment, “I do not know what caused the tension between them, I only know that I made her the offer of an out on a chance meeting; and very suddenly, she called on me to honour it.”

The leather binding of the book thrashes atop the kindling, curling at the edges as the flames lap at its exterior. “I thought it would be best to scout the situation myself before getting you involved, just in case it turned out to be a ploy to find who was trying to undermine the Hand. I was certain she’d recognize you and track it back to your family, and I didn’t want to risk even the possibility after...” he trails off and clears his throat.

That was definitely his first mistake; by not getting Zarius involved, they’d ended up clashing in the aftermath; but there’s no denying that the clash between his family, and the Hand, has left its scar on his mindset.

The changeling takes a calm breath as he pulls back his cloak and does not continue with that line of thought; there’s the muted click of a latch as he opens one of the pouches on his belt and pulls a small book from it— the very same ledger that Lyari had given him during their first negotiations. “She gave me some of her most recent records as a show of faith,” he remarks. “I figured if it was a trap, she’d try to kill me before the job was complete with this on my person. I thought maybe she tried,” His gaze flickers briefly towards the door-frame, catching the glint of his throwing knives in the light from the fire. “... she… did not.”

He approaches Zarius only enough to set the ledger on the side table for him if he wanted to look at it, but comes no closer; the formality of it is irregular for the changeling. Before he steps back, he pulls something out of his sleeve and sets it atop the ledger— Lyari’s calling card, an assurance of her cooperation.

“The deal we made was to secure a confidential discussion between my handlers and herself if I were able to complete a task for her...” he trails off, clearing his throat. “...which turned into a few tasks for her in the end.” He finally dares to look up at Zarius, drawing in a slow breath. “She wishes to speak with your family about an agreement. I never used any names. If you were to decline, she would never know who it was she was supposed to speak with.”

He looks back to the ledger on the table, before offering Zarius another glance; there's a turmoil in his pale eyes that is nigh unreadable.

“Taking a major distributor from under the Crimson Hand while strengthening your family’s connections seemed like a good deal for the both of us. That’s why I took the job.”

Zarius watches Caedes put the ledger and the calling card on top of the ledger. His eyes linger on the items as the changeling steps away. The explanation is a good one. In fact, all that news is good. Caedes had secured a better opportunity than those merchants could have ever offered, an opportunity that would also get them closer to the Crimson Hand. All the trouble the changeling had gone through to make this happen while keeping his family safe was not something he ever expected of the assassin.

That’s how it should be, shouldn’t it? He played the good guy, the guy who was everyone’s friend, who they could trust and confide in when it mattered most. He carefully crafted this persona that was easy to endear to others and get them to want to make sacrifices at his request, or even without it.

That is just what Caedes did. So, why is he upset? Why did it bother him?

Zarius reaches over and takes the ledger off of the table and gives it a cursory glance through while fiddling with the calling card between his fingers. The little booklet was legitimate, that much was easy to tell even with a brief glance. Caedes being trusted with this information spoke volumes of what he had managed to accomplish all on his own without the tiefling even knowing.

Something about that thought gives him pause despite his best efforts to think logically and focus on what has been presented to him. 

There was no denying that Lyari Uldreyn is a powerful contact and has a lot of resources at her fingertips. If they could work together then they might just stand a chance at taking the Crimson Hand down. At the very least, they could cripple their supply chain and mess with their business. At most, they may even be able to use this leverage against the top three families if they were smart. His family couldn’t ask for a better chance than this.

The tiefling sighs and tucks the calling card into the pages before setting it back down on the table. He rubs his face tiredly before he stands up and faces the changeling.

It's difficult for him to know what to say in response. He had so many mixed feelings about the whole situation and he hasn't had the energy to really process those emotions properly. All he can do is keep them from chasing away the changeling. Doubts about if the changeling would still stand by him even after this discussion nagged at the back of his mind. 

The only thing that comes to mind in this moment is what went down in the warehouse and a single choice Caedes had made that just didn't make much sense to the tiefling. "Back in the warehouse, you had every opportunity to kill me. Logically, you should have. You left a loose end.”

He looks Caedes up and down from head to toe. The young man seemed unharmed at least, it was a good thing he had dodged Zarius' initial ambush that night otherwise they would have likely had to make another trip to the Witch of Moonglade and her large healer friend. That said, the tepid act doesn’t suit the changeling. “Is that really how the last Shadow Crawler should be acting? I hope you are not planning to make that title your legacy."

For a brief moment, Zarius considers putting his hand on Caedes’ shoulder to reassure him. But the tiefling's own internal conflict makes his arms feel heavy like there are lead weights tied to his wrists. “I appreciate your concern for my family. But-” he hesitates before looking Caedes in the eye. “Please, do not risk your own life like that again. I cannot help you if you run off on your own without a word and get yourself in a situation you cannot get out of.”

What would have happened had Caedes not returned? People disappear in Darkveil all the time, never to be seen again. What if Caedes had ended up being one of those people? Zarius doesn't want to think about it and shakes that train of thought from his head. 

"I am glad you are unharmed." He turns away and picks up the empty glass from the table. There is a small amount liquid still sitting at the bottom which he swirls around a few times idly.

“You did well. Thank you.” It’s hard to say, but he can’t deny that Caedes made the right calls despite how they made his actions look.

Now that he had the full story, he thinks about how to even begin explaining this to his family. They would have questions and suspicions, and knowing them, if he wasn't transparent they would eventually find out everything on their own. That may put Caedes in a dangerous position if the changeling wasn't already on thin ice with his sister and father after what happened. He wasn't confident that he could keep stalling forever.

He considers introducing Caedes to the rest of his family, but the tightness in his chest and way his stomach turns at the thought makes him reconsider that quickly. He really wasn't ready for that, even if his father seemingly already knew more than he thought. It was hard keeping secrets in a family of spies and interrogators.

For the time being, he puts that train of thought to the side. He would have to address it eventually, but there were still other questions he needed answered before he could reasonably move forward with making any arrangements for Caedes and his parents to meet. 

Glancing back over at the assassin. "So, uhm," he flounders with his words for the first time.

He averts his eyes as he tries to come up with a way to ask an awkward question without coming off as insensitive or judgmental. "I understand that the Shadow Crawlers were able to do all sorts of things with shadows...but in your case, there is more to it than just that, is there not?"

Zarius’ golden eyes drift to the table; and for a time, nothing is said.

Caedes waits patiently, while Zarius takes what he’s offered and begins to thumb through it. He ignores the swell of apprehension the moment the tiefling touches the book’s cover; and listens instead to the pop and crackle of embers in the fire as pages turn between the tiefling’s fingers.

The silence stretches a moment, and then a moment longer; words of interruption settle on the changeling’s tongue but never make it past his lips. When Zarius finally moves to stand, Caedes leans back on a retreating heel; he purses his lips when Zarius speaks and mentions that he’d left a loose end back in the warehouse.

It… surprises him.

There’s a ghost of a laugh in Caedes’ tone that almost suggests offense. “You’re… kidding, right?” His voice isn’t light and playful; instead, it carries a quizzical undertone. His pale gaze drifts to the throwing knives dug into the wooden frame of the door, before focusing on his boots. His brows furrow as he looks back up at Zarius, “Zarius, that…”

… was you.

Is he seriously suggesting he should have killed him?

Caedes purses his lips in the silence that follows; there’s a slight twitch in his clasped fingertips while Zarius looks him up and down. Logically… he’s not wrong. He hadn’t known. He should have killed him, and gods be damned, he nearly had; a knock on the door was all that saved Zarius’ life in that moment.

A god damned knock.

A tangled and heavy feeling settles in his stomach; an empty gnaw of dread over the ‘what ifs’ that he mentally shakes off before it can go any further. Still, the heaviness of that possibility remains. He tilts his head up to offer Zarius a quiet leer, eyes narrowing when the tiefling harangues him further; his regalia of the Shadow Crawlers seems to strike enough of a nerve in the changeling to taunt him into biting.

“Seriously?” he scoffs, eyes narrowing with a short laugh. “And who do you think they’re going to track down? A recordless woman at the Dancer’s Den? There’s no paper trail on her; your trail starts and ends with that warehouse.” He makes a general gesture towards the other side of the room, Caedes shifts his weight between legs, favouring his right while he moves to cross his arms over his chest. “And if you happen to find a trail, it’s because it was left for you to find; there’s a reason my family was good at what they did. Loose ends don’t stay loose for long.”

His temper fades quickly when it’s all said and done; his brows furrow, pale gaze tilting towards the side. “In hindsight, it’s a good thing I left it where it ended.” he adds, his tone losing its biting confidence and delving into uncertainty. He looks up when Zarius speaks again, brows furrowing when he catches the tiefling’s gaze.

He feels another swath of irritation wash over him; the words form on his tongue but die before they can leave his lips when Zarius turns away. Intention to pick a fight deflates into a soft sigh; Caedes tightens his hold on his own forearms.

What life?

Yes, they had a talk in the Marsh Flats once; an argument, even, on the changeling’s mindset of having nothing left to lose; but he’s not sure if it’s ever really changed, or… if it’s evolved into something else. There’s no bringing back what he’s lost. People disappear from Darkveil constantly; and the Shadow Crawlers had only been one high profile case among the many.

The least he could do is spare Zarius from experiencing the same; help protect what’s important to him.

Or try.

The changeling nods despite Zarius having his back turned. “I hope I can at least make up for some of the trouble I’ve caused you.” he admits in the silence that follows; and that, at least, is something genuine. Granted, he couldn’t blame Zarius for kicking him to the curb given everything that has happened; but there’s a tiny flicker of hope that things could just…

Slide past this given his reactions so far.

Except his next question takes him by surprise; and although Caedes meets Zarius’ gaze at first, his neutral expression briefly flickers into something more complicated as he looks away. The changeling flattens his heels against the wood. His expression is hard to read; and for a moment, he considers lying, as if it’s something that would help him in this position.

It’s not.

It’s not something he can keep quiet forever, is it? It never was, and he never truly intended to keep it hush.

Frankly, it’s miraculous that Zarius hasn’t figured it out yet; unless he has, and this is just his way of getting him to spill without making him look like a fool for trying to hide it.

… What does he have to lose?

But even with that consideration, his stomach still flips nervously.

After a moment, a hesitant sigh breaks the awkward silence; and he chooses to feign his confidence, offering Zarius a chuckle before he speaks. “I, uh… I never survived the attack; not really. The Shadow Crawlers were, in fact, wiped out by the Crimson Hand— all of them.” The smile he offers Zarius is light, but his words fall with a sardonic edge. “Myself included.”

He tilts his head, pale gaze drifting from the tiefling; they settle on his wrist, where he places two fingers against his unbeating pulse. “Obviously I’m not dead; but, I’m afraid I’m not quite alive anymore, either.” He blinks, cautious eyes settling on Zarius again. “And as you can imagine, socially, that kind of admission is not too widely accepted with enthusiasm.”

Zarius wasn't so drunk that he was oblivious to Caedes' tone. As Caedes' temper flares, he considers making some very cruel comments in response. As much as he is tempted to point out that the assassin's family was far from infallible, it wouldn't help the situation any. He shoots back the last few drops the of his drink instead before putting down the glass on the table a little harder than he likely intended. 

He looks Caedes. "No. I am serious."

Stepping back over to the changeling, he gets uncomfortably close and nearly hisses in his face. 

"Imagine if that had not been me. Imagine if it had been one of your enemies. The trail ends at the warehouse? No. It does not. It just gets muddy. Snow was able to track you from that warehouse to that shop. Unless you can say with confidence that someone with Snow or Cyran's skills would be unable to track you, you cannot assume that someone will not eventually figure things out."

His eyes linger on the changeling's before he steps back and gives him back his space. 

"The trail only really ends if you disappear the same way so many unfortunate souls do in these lands. And I do not want to think about not being able to find you." He shakes his head. "It is not a comfort, Caedes."

Turning away, he walks over to the desk across the room and starts idly tidying up some of the books that have been scattered about. The tiefling was usually a pretty organized individual, so the books strewn across the space was odd. Perhaps his composure had broken more than it was right now before Caedes ever knocked on his door. Zarius pays it no mind, and merely starts putting things back in order. 

"My family is not the only one that deals in trading information. And while I would like to trust that our allies who have met you as yourself would not sell you out, our enemies here are far from above any manner of underhanded tactics to get what they want. Every time we screw up, we are endangering them too."

He keeps his back to the changeling as he places another book back in its place on the shelf. "It is one of the many reasons it is hard to have personal relations in our line of work."

None of this seemed unreasonable to remind the changeling of. By this point in the conversation it was clear that Caedes had meant no harm and had the best intentions. Things just got messy, as they so often do in their line of work. The final outcomes of the whole series of events could have been much, much worse.

"We got lucky. I was lucky you did not do what you should have, and you were lucky that the consequences of that decision end with my family. You do not have to make up for anything. My father is handling things." His tone becomes more resigned and tired.

It was was a bitter statement, not directed towards his father, but at himself for his multitude of failures over the past few nights. 

"Better than I could," he mutters the last part under his breath.

He finally turns back to face the changeling and walks back over to him. The pacing was a distraction to help him deal with everything he was feeling, and everything he was still denying to let show. He wasn't the kind to break down out of frustration, as tempting as it was.

As Caedes explains his strange situation and what really happened that night, he listens silently. His eyes drift down to Caedes' wrist. Reaching forward, he takes takes the changeling's wrist to feel for a pulse himself, needing something tangible to help process this news.

Compared to Caedes' ice cold skin, Zarius' feels like it's blisteringly hot. There's also a lingering scent of brimstone coming off the tiefling, distinct from the smell of the fire place crackling away. He focuses for a moment before shaking his head. 

"That..." he chuckles a bit in disbelief. "That explains a few things. I suppose there is nothing we can really do about it, is there? How is it even possible?"

He lets go of Caedes and rubs the back of his neck. "Well, regardless of how alive you are, you are safe here. Eameia has her suspicions, but other than that no one else knows anything." The parting words from his father intrude on his mind. "At least no one will act on that information."

There's a moment of hesitation. Though Caedes likely had no reason to suspect otherwise, Zarius felt he had to reassure the assassin that his secret was safe even if...

He takes a deep breath and meets the changeling's pale eyes once more. "You can rest easy, even if you decide that being here is not advantageous to your goals anymore."

The changeling doesn’t respond; gaze tilting away from Zarius as he elaborates. It rubs him the wrong way, an unjustified bitterness rising in his chest while he narrows pale eyes at the baseboards. His line of sight travels though— from baseboard, to scattered books— some open, others haphazard. It’s not that Zarius is wrong with his assessment— no, he’s right— he’s right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow the facts and Caedes has never been one to take his mistakes lightly.

He takes a breath to calm himself before looking back at Zarius, begrudgingly admitting it. “Fine,” he agrees. “It was sloppy work on my end, but it doesn’t change the facts that it was you in the warehouse, and had I been any more thorough, this conversation would be very different.” He crosses his arms beneath his chest uneasily, tilting his weight against one hip as he watches Zarius turn away and start gathering scattered some of the tomes from the floorboards he had laid eyes on earlier, but…

Now that he’s thinking about it, it’s a bit out of sorts for him, isn’t it? The mess? Granted, he can speak nothing of the state of Zarius’ room prior to everything that’s happened; he hasn’t been to the Rookery for several days, but it’s… a little off-putting, despite his silence as he listens to the gentle rummaging of paper and leather binders lifted in Zarius’ hands. He lowers his eyes after a moment, listening to the slide of books placed back on the shelf.

“Mm.” He agrees, a simple hum of acknowledgement; he knows well the risks they run, and the risks he’s run as a result of his sloppy work; but perhaps he’s been out of the game for too long. How long has it been since he’s run a proper job within the confines of Darkveil? Or, perhaps he’s clinging too tightly to the past; egos have never gone well in this line of business, and at the end of the day…

What is there to hold onto when it’s gone?

The Shadow Crawlers have been dead; no matter their methods, even if he repeats them the way they always have been; maybe he’s just doomed to repeat the past. Caedes blinks, his gaze settling on Zarius with a resigned look, “Regardless, I’ll be more careful in the future.”

If there is one; there’s simply no telling how anyone would take an admission of something like undeath, and so when Zarius takes his wrist; Caedes’ shoulders tense. Zarius’ hand is scorching in comparison to the temperature of his skin; his chest tightens, and the sheer differentiation makes him wince in the twitch of his fingertips while the tiefling checks his pulse.

He knows there’s nothing there.

He’s checked it so many times since that night.

The smell of brimstone drifts from the close proximity, briefly catching the changeling’s attention; remnants of previous nights flicker in the back of his mind, of shuddering blue flames roaring around Zarius. He blinks at the tiefling; and as he releases him, Caedes withdraws his wrist to himself.

He turns his face away, hiding a flicker of shame in his expression; he’s certainly not proud of this; it’s one thing to live it. While he’s used the fact as intimidation in the past, it’s another thing to voice the truth out loud to someone he actually regards.

There’s a lingering warmth where Zarius’ hand had once been; warmth where there had not been for some time; but as Caedes overlaps his wrist with the opposite, it cools against his body temperature. “I suppose it could,” he remarks hesitantly, pale gaze drifting back towards Zarius when he wonders how it’s possible. Caedes blinks, lowering his eyes to his wrist, where he flexes his hand around it, before gently enveloping around it once more. “There’s a few ways you could achieve it,” he remarks, releasing his wrist to pull back his cloak; the jeweled dagger on his belt reflects the warmth of firelight. “… In my case, our family’s gift didn’t exactly come from natural-given magical abilities.”

It’s an insinuation he does not elaborate on; he drops his cloak, covering himself again. “But no. There is not much to do about it.” He furrows his brows as Zarius continues; but the expression flickers into relief when Zarius assures silence— although, how much can he trust him at this point? Can he? He meets Zarius’ gaze, unable to hold back a bemused laugh at his words, “Would you rather I leave?” He asks, putting the question back on Zarius; he offers the tiefling a lopsided smile— it’s not quite the same as his usual.

“All bullshit aside, my goals are the same; I did what I did only to provide an advantage for the both of us… as… erring as I may have been in my judgement and procedures. But… well…” He turns his eyes away, drifting briefly to the knives still lodged into Zarius’ doorframe. He meets Zarius' amber gaze again, ignoring the apprehension that turns his stomach.

“I would understand.”

Zarius listens to Caedes, but finds his lack of details…well, lacking. He doesn’t have the energy or patience to try and pry the information out of the assassin.

“Your vagueness is infuriating, you know that?” He sighs and waves a hand dismissively. “Whatever, family secrets. I get it. I would be a hypocrite to criticize while my own family has plenty of skeletons in the closets as it were. I can at least assure you they are very much dead and are not walking up and about.”

He steps over to one of the chairs and sits down. This whole ordeal was exhausting in various ways and he wasn't in the best mindset at the moment to handle things well. 

“If-” The words catch in his throat for a moment. Come on. There's no reason for this to be as hard as it is. “If I did not want you here, you would already be on your ass out in the street.”

Any other day, it would be said with a teasing smile and a joking tone, but the fellblood is drained of most of his humor. He rests his arms across his knees as he leans forward and stares at the floor for a moment in thought. 

“I want the decision to be yours. It is important that it is yours. You do not have to prove anything to me, and you do not owe me anything. Whatever decision you make…it should be based on what you want and not any obligation you may feel.”

Even the obligation of revenge.

He doesn't say it out loud. It's not his place to say it. Caedes has been through so much and lost more than Zarius originally thought. While he wanted to discourage Caedes using his second chance at life to get revenge, who was he to deny the changeling that closure? Maybe it was best he did not interfere any further.

His irritation with the changeling back in the swamp seemed so foolish in retrospect. Caedes really had already lost everything. Who was he to tell a dead man walking they were wrong to say they had nothing more to lose?

Idiot.

He should have caught on sooner…the wound that didn't heal even with Kamille's aid, the aversion to being caught in broad daylight, hell, had he ever seen Caedes eat or drink?

Idiot.

The signs were all there. Why did he ignore them? Why did he keep making excuses and not asking questions? For someone so eager to criticize Caedes' choices as an assassin he sure did a piss poor job as a professional information gathered.

He takes a shaky breath. He could feel the anger and frustration at his own foolishness and shortcomings welling back up inside him. Sitting back in the chair, he looks over at the fire crackling away in the hearth.

"You should get some rest. We will deal with that later." He gestures to the book Lyari gave Caedes.

“Anything more would ruin the mystery, wouldn’t it?” A chuckle cuts the silence, its tone grim despite Caedes’ attempt to provide a playful transition. Now really isn’t the time for his games; but in reality, to tell Zarius the truth is one thing, to tell him how it had come about is… something else. He trusts Zarius can connect the dots if he wants to, and to be fair… he hasn’t lied, but he certainly hasn’t elaborated… and he won’t go further.

That truth weighs heavier than any undeath might; and though it’s a line he’s now crossed, a white noise buzzes in the recesses of his mind. It creeps, scratching at the surface, whispers of certain regret and waiting anxieties hounding him in the heavy silence; his chest feels tight at the thought of being anymore direct about this.

No one ever knew.

…

No, that’s not true: one person knew about her.

He closes his eyes. “Well… I suppose not all of us can stay dead.” It’s a joke, or it’s meant to be one; but Caedes doesn’t chase the topic anymore. Zarius moves to slump into his chair; but Caedes remains where he is, dutifully hovering at an arms length away. He blinks his pale eyes open, staring quietly into the warm light of the hearth as he waits for the fellblood.

In reality, he’s not sure what kind of answer he hopes to receive by asking him directly; maybe just a confirmation that he hasn’t fucked up completely; or even that he has.

…And so, when Zarius stumbles on his words, the changeling feels his throat tighten apprehensively. His fingers tighten around his wrist; and had there been a pulse to feel, it would have sped nervously against his fingertips. Zarius’ voice pitches resigned and tired in the silence of his room, his silhouette in the chair haloed by firelight.

“Hm.” A muffled chuckle escapes between the Changeling’s lips; though, its tone lacks his usual bemusement. He thinks about telling Zarius that he’s surprised he hasn’t already kicked him out on his ass, but he doesn’t; if it were anyone else, they would have already considered executing him by now. A part of him is glad that it hasn’t come to that; his fingertips twitch against his wrist, a nervous wave following the ‘what ifs’ of scenarios that simply weren’t.

He doesn’t have to prove anything? He doesn’t owe him anything?

Guilt washes over him, brows furrowing slightly as he processes the words: is Zarius really only giving him a slap on the wrist for this? For nearly killing him? For sabotaging a deal?

He still feels tense; like there’s more meaning beneath his words; like there’s a reason the atmosphere still feels suffocating around them. He just… can’t find them. He can’t understand where it comes from; neither the lenience, nor the tension. At the end of the day, the truth is that he doesn’t want to leave. He doesn’t entertain the reasons why for long; instead, he takes a slow breath, closing his eyes while he listens to the crackle of the fire and the creak of Zarius’ chair when he moves. Half-lidded, Caedes looks at him from the corner of his eyes.

“…Right.” He agrees, voiced hushed; blinking his eyes open with a slow rise and fall of his chest, he looks to the book briefly, then back to Zarius where he sits in his chair, still gazing at the hearth. He opens his mouth to speak, to apologize again— but he can’t quite find the words. Instead, he lets his shoulders fall, forcing the tension from them with a sigh. The floorboards creak beneath his boots as he turns away from Zarius and the fireplace.

“I guess I’ll have to up the anti next time I fuck up on the field.” He tries to summon an ounce of his usual sarcasm into his tone as he strides back towards the door. “Because if you’re leaving it up to me,” He breathes a sigh, looking to the knives sticking out of Zarius’ doorframe with slight distaste; there’s a small creak, an a splinter of wood as Caedes pulls his knife from it. “I never really had any plan to leave; so… I guess I’ll have to wait for you to kick me out on my ass.” He clutches the hilt of his knife in his right hand as he pulls open the door.

He looks over his shoulder to where the fellblood remains, “Let me know when you’re ready to speak to Lyari, and… get some rest.” He blinks, pale gaze flicking away. “If you need me, I’ll be in my room. Goodnight, Zarius.”

Only lingering long enough to entertain any last parting words, Caedes eventually steps back into the hall, shutting the door behind him.

Zarius doesn't pry. He doesn't watch Caedes walk across the room back to the door or pull the knives from the door frame. He doesn't make eye contact, or continue the conversation any further. He just...can't.

He had come so close to saying spiteful terrible things, so close to losing his temper, and so close to taking out his frustrations on the changeling. It wasn't something he was proud of, even if he had managed to stop himself. The fact that he had to stop himself at all was just more than he wanted to deal with right now. He didn't have the energy for it. 

All he does do is nod at Caedes' parting words. 

He sits there alone next to the fire long after Caedes closes the door. He watches the flames dwindle into glowing embers before dying into ash. He takes a breath and finally gets up from his chair, picking up the book from the table as he passes by it on his way up to the loft. 

---

Later during the evening after the two have had a chance to rest and recover from the previous few nights' events, Zarius eventually makes his way up the stairs to Caedes' room. The fellblood is all geared up and ready to head out, though he hesitates to knock on the door. A part of him dreads there will be no answer from the other side despite Caedes' earlier statement. There's a lingering worry that in his exhausted and alcohol-influenced state he had mishandled the conversation with the changeling, and potentially drove him away for good.

What would he do then?

He has no conclusive answer. Not because he doesn't know what he should do if Caedes has left but rather because he is not convinced he would be able to follow through in the end. It's odd and admittedly frightening. He has never had so much self-doubt before.

Why was his mind reeling like this? What changed? He wasn't that much of a lightweight when it came to alcohol, but admittedly he doesn't drink particularly often. This didn't feel like hangover symptoms. If felt a hell of a lot worse. 

Dammit.

He pushes those insecurities away and knocks on the door a little harder than he meant to. He winces at the echo bouncing off the stone walls.

Dammit. Get it together already.

If he couldn't compose himself before they got to Lyari then all this effort would truly be a waste.

He shuts the door behind him.

For a few strange moments, he doesn’t really feel anything; but the conversation with Zarius still buzzes fresh in his mind. He blinks, refocusing on the dim light in his room; there’s an essence of dried florals which waft from Charlotte’s half; a vague scent of leather and parchment from his own. Through the locked and latched window, light seeps through, highlighting the edges of his desk.

It’s that same deathly quiet he’d been met with upon entering earlier.

Now that all has been said and done, it’s quiet enough to finally think; and that is exactly when everything he’s been repressing crashes down at once. “_Caedes?” A tiny voice blends into the white static; a small weight contributes to the heaviness that bears down on his chest as he slides down into a seated position with his back flat against the door.

Charlotte reappears; the changeling tucks his knees towards his chest, leaving just enough room for her to remain clung to his abdomen without being cramped. “_Caedes…?” His pale eyes blink once towards the back of the room before he offers Charlotte a swift glance, but in the silence everything in his head feels so much louder.

“I just… need a minute.” He can barely hear himself talk.

“_But…”

“Just a minute… Please.” His throat feels tight, but after a moment of looking quizzically at him, Charlotte does allow him that.

He feels her rest against him, sprawling out her legs on either side; and she waits patiently, a silent support while he closes his eyes and tries to process the slurry of emotion, guilt, and anxiety he’s been holding at bay for the past few days.

---

He doesn’t leave his room for the rest of the day.

The upper floor in the clocktower where Caedes has temporarily made his home is as quiet as the rest of the Rookery; an eerie sort of silence which feels unlived and unpresent. At some point, the changeling makes it from the door into the thick rafters; he lies with one leg dangling from the beam, staring up at the twisting heights and labyrinth of supports above, while he reflects on everything which had happened over the course of the past few days.

He fucked up; he really did.

He lets himself feel bitter about each mistake in hindsight for a while; every decision feels absurd now that he knows that Zarius was on the other side. He had mocked him, tried to make a fool of him, and nearly gods-damned killed the man—

—and he let him off with hardly a slap on the wrist?

That can’t be right. There’s got to be something more to it.

“I want the decision to be yours.”

Is he stupid?

“You do not have to prove anything to me, and you do not owe me anything.”

Is Zarius messing with him?

He wants to trust that there’s no hidden meaning behind his words; that Zarius wouldn’t set him up… but he’s trusted fully before, and he paid for that trust with his life. What if it happens again? Although, it’s not necessarily the idea of death that twists his stomach; he’s faced it once. He could face it again.

Caedes closes his eyes, steadying a breath into his empty lungs; he fends away an image of the charcoal-skinned fellblood; furious, adorned by lapping blue flames.

… but it’s that idea of seeing Zarius like that; an addition to the nightmares he already suffers from of the night that upturned everything. It’s the idea of personally cutting his trust with the fellblood, and finding himself at the mercy of angry, paranoid silence in the way things were before they’d met... assuming he woke again.

In fact, just the idea of leaving the Rookery makes his mind reel; and that fact, paired with how starkly he feels about this whole thing, brings something else to light—

—which is going to have to wait.

Caedes catches his breath in his throat, nearly spooking right off the rafters when a banging comes from his door and echoes off the internal walls. “Fuck—“ Caedes scrabbles at the rafters while gravity tries to plunge him down.

Who’s knocking so gods damn loud?

He catches himself, hooking his arms around the rafter before he can fully fall; he glances towards the door, lips pursed nervously, before he finally drops himself. He lands with a soft thump, muted in the dim light, and straightens the collar of his shirt while he steps towards the door.; after a moment of hovering just on the other side, checking and composing himself, the doorknob clicks.

Caedes pulls it back, ignoring the tightening in his chest when he realizes it’s the fellblood on the other side. He’s not sure whether to be grateful or not; he’s not sure he’s ready to face Eameia or Eirynor yet.

“Zarius.” he greets after a moment.

Zarius’ breath catches in his throat as the door clicks and opens. It’s a relief, if only a little to see that Caedes was still around and that his words hadn’t just been words.

“Ah…apologies, I did not mean to knock so loudly.”

He almost asks if the changeling got enough rest, but ultimately stops himself. Caedes didn’t seem to need to eat or drink since he is some sort of…well…he doesn’t know what Caedes is now, and how much Caedes needs to still meet basic needs of the living is not something he feels comfortable asking given the awkwardness of the revelation earlier that morning.

Maybe he should.

Maybe he should be more accommodating and supportive.

Maybe he should apologize even if there is nothing to apologize for.

“Uhm…we should get going. I cannot image Lady Uldreyn will wait on us forever.”

He turns away and sits on the stairs outside the room to wait for Caedes to gather his things. It doesn’t feel right to invite himself into the changeling’s room. That space was something he didn’t want to intrude on. Their relationship was strained enough as it is.

A creak from the base of the stairs catches the fellblood’s attention. Eameia is standing at the bottom, looking up the stairwell with a concerned expression on her face. She must have heard the loud knock.

Zarius sighs and gets up, briefly glancing at Caedes as he starts making his way down the stairs. “I will meet you outside when you are ready.” He wouldn’t force Caedes to face anyone else, even if they didn’t have the full story yet.

Descending the stairs, Zarius smiles reassuringly at his sister. “Good evening.”

Eameia frowns. “Do not ‘good evening’ me. Where are you two going? You should be resting.”

“We will not be gone long and this cannot wait.”

“Why not? Father said he would handle any loose ends.”

“This is about something else,” he pauses for a moment, only briefly considering what to say next. “Trust me. It will be fine.”

She folds her arms, scoffs, and shakes her head. “You can not expect me to be okay with that shitty explanation.”

“Eameia.”

“No,” she hisses, clearly upset but keeping her voice low in case anyone was listening in. “Neither of you are getting away with keeping me in the dark like this.”

Zarius keeps his voice calm and low. “It is not my intention to keep you in the dark.”

“But you are. And for what? What has Caedes done to deserve you keeping a bunch of secrets from your own family? From me?”

“Do not blame him.” He’s quick to jump to the changeling’s defense. He doesn’t think much of it and instead focuses on reassuring Eameia and putting her mind at ease. “I am sorry I have made you worry. I promise I will do better.”

She gives him an unimpressed look, unconvinced. “I am not stupid, brother. I know what Caedes is, and who he was.” She glances towards the stairs then stares her brother down. “I have held my tongue out of respect for your decision, but keeping this from everyone here, from mother and father, is only putting their lives in danger should anyone come to finish the job.”

There’s a moment of tense silence that stretches between the quarreling siblings. Zarius isn’t sure what he can say at this point, still wrestling with his own internal turmoil over the situation and how he should be feeling.

Eameia isn’t used to seeing her brother at a loss for words, but she has made her own assumptions as to why he is struggling. Just because he was the older sibling didn’t mean that he was the most mature in all facets of life. She sighs exasperated.

“Look, just…be careful. I do not want you getting hurt. And I do not just mean physically.” She pokes him in the chest before turning and heading back down to the bar. “That man has already got you acting all weird. I will support you but not if you are going to be stupid about it.”

Zarius stands there for a moment a little perplexed with Eameia’s accusations. That…that wasn’t what was going on…was it? He shakes his head. He could worry about that later.

For now he heads out of the Rookery into the back alley just below Caedes’ room. The light was starting to fade from the sky once more and plunge the city into the comfort of darkness.

Caedes shakes his head, “It’s fine.” He counters in a level tone; he catches himself brushing back strands of ivory hair, before he withdraws. “You’re not interrupting anything.” The changeling crosses his arms beneath his chest instead, tilting a hip against the open door while he steadies his composure in front of the fellblood; in truth, he’s fucking tired.

It’s a bone-deep kind of tired; an exhausted haze that shrouds his mind while he agonizes over everything that’s happened over the past few days. The physical and emotional whiplash has been more than he’s had to endure since—

Well.

Caedes just nods; he registers what Zarius has said a few seconds later. “Mm,” he hums, blinking his consciousness back into his pale gaze. Nervous anticipation grasps at his chest: he’s not sure what he’s going to do if something goes wrong; if Lyari turns back on her word; if she refuses.

Then what? What does he have to give Zarius then, save a bunch of empty promises and wasted efforts?

He watches Zarius turn and take a seat on the staircase as if to wait on him; his brows furrow slightly. The formality of the gesture hits awkwardly; it’s not as if Zarius hasn’t been in his room, but it hits a certain note that… something’s changed after tonight.

A wall’s been raised, and that’s entirely on him.

Right. That’s fair.

It smarts, but he can respect that.

He burrows his fingertips into his forearms, pale gaze tilting towards the dim light of his room. “It would… probably be best to wrap this up as soon as possible.” He agrees as he turns to enter his room; but he’s caught with Eameia in his peripheral vision. The changeling grimaces internally at the sight of her; and as Zarius addresses him to meet outside, he hesitantly nods.

He offers Eameia one last glance before stepping back through the doorframe, and closing his door behind him.

---

For a man whose skin appears as pale as the moon itself, he blends into the shadows of growing night as though he belongs there.

But, it’s Mei who waits in the shadows of the Rookery, gaze tilted towards the setting sky muted by ashen clouds; it’s not until she hears Zarius’ footsteps that she turns her eyes away. The shadows shift, almost pulling away from the depths of her cloak as though reluctant to let go.

“Should I even begin to ask how upset she was?” She chuckles grimly, boots clicking against the cobblestone as she approaches Zarius under the last vestiges of Darkveil’s sunset. She won’t admit that she lingered for a little too long at her door, only able to catch broken fragments of their hushed conversation before giving up.

Charlotte peeps at Zarius from over her shoulder, unwilling to allow herself to be left behind again. “I’ll… be happy to talk to her when we get back,” she adds, arms crossing beneath her cloak; she’s left her hood down— no longer the same red that she’d worn during her heists— but the darker one that she often sports on sunny days or long trips. “Hopefully with better news… but she’s every right to be mad.”

Mei brushes loose locks of platinum hair from her face, red eyes turning towards the Rookery’s dimly lit windows; not to mention, she’ll have to face Eirynor at some point. She’s not even sure how to begin apologizing to the half-elf; she’s not sure apologies will even be enough.

Her gaze tilts apologetically back to Zarius; she’s done her best to steel herself for what’s to come; attempts to shrug off idle paranoia that Lyari might try to swindle him, now that her ‘mysterious handler’ has stepped into the negotiations.

She can’t keep entertaining those thoughts alongside the rest; she doesn't allow herself those luxuries often. Sitting on emotions is exhausting, so she’s done her damndest to shove it all back into the box her feelings slithered out from... at least until she's retreated back into her room at the Rookery.

“… You’re ready to go?”