She was spiraling again. That was just who Del was - always something to be done and taken care of. When she could fix something she was going to, to the best of her ability. But what did one do when all they was were problems that needed to be solved and no way for her to solve them? Cyran’s gaze softened, listening to her panic, the sick feeling building in her stomach. And amongst all that, she was worried that she would be used to hurt him of all people.

“But you didn’t.” In the face of her panic, the only thing that was settling amongst him was the calm after the storm. “You need to stay still, Del…” He murmured, worried that she might try to shrug him off and force herself to keep moving. “You don’t have to do these things alone. And neither of us are in any state to help anyone but ourselves right now.” Del was injured and drugged and she’d worked through her injuries - there was no way she wasn’t as exhausted as him, who still couldn’t properly use his magic. Even if they jumped up right now, and tried to go after the people that had taken them, what good would they be?

“The best thing we can do right now is wait here. Oriole and Andromeda are fine.” And even if the cultists were still alone, Del and Cyran were clearly their intended targets. It was a risk to assume that the orphanage was safe for certain - after what happened Cyran could no longer deal in absolutes today. But if there were any remaining cultists, they would be out on the road looking for their lost sacrifices. But even with all her rebuttals, reasons to get back out there, to keep moving, Cyran could feel her resolve weakening, the heated fire lighting her forge flickering and dying out. Even her embers did not burn his cool skin. He closed his eyes, relaxing against her.

How could she ever think she could hurt him?

“I don’t understand what’s going on, either.” He admitted honestly. “Or why they seemed to think… what they did about me. About you. But I do know this. Wherever you go, wherever they may try to take you. I will always follow. And I will always, always try to drag you back.” He laughed, though it was a small, quiet sound that lingered somewhere between a giggle and a sob. “Even if I don’t always succeed. At the very least we’d still be together.”

He hummed under his breath at her scared admission. “I was worried I’d never see you again too. I felt you being taken through the ring - and I felt when the panic stopped. I was so scared…”

I almost thought you’d died, and I hadn’t been there to do anything about it, he didn’t say.

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t smart enough to realize that they might have wanted to take me too.” He really, truly was. Perhaps if he’d stopped to think then they wouldn’t have accrued as many injuries as they did, and Del wouldn’t have had to tap into this forge-fire that still lingered around her. Perhaps if he’d been better he wouldn’t have wasted the power he’d dipped into to keep her safe.

Even as she relaxed in his embrace, he couldn’t help but think that she didn’t deserve to feel safe in his arms.

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters.” He gripped her firmly, the raindrops striking them from above. A gentle pitter-patter of noise, like a soft drum. “I’ve spent so much of my life agonizing over what could have been. About the mistakes I’ve made, and how I could have fixed them if I’d only been better. Smarter. More prepared. I’ve lived so much of my exile living in the past that I almost missed the wonderful things that were happening in my life. And this-“ He let out a small breath, “I would have missed this. I don’t want to live like that anymore… I’m just happy you’re alive.”

He could spend all day agonizing over what he could’ve done better, what he could’ve done to prevent this, how they needed to keep themselves safe. But they couldn’t afford to get caught up in the what-ifs. They couldn’t let the guilt consume them. Cyran truly just wanted to hold her, and be reminded of the fact that despite it all, they were both here.

That was all he could ask for.

Del nods faintly; waiting here was as good as they could get for the moment. Make sure they weren't followed, make sure that was the end of them, truly stamped out so they couldn't hurt either of them ever again. It had been one thing when they were discovered by that poacher in Frost Gale, but this was another entirely. As much as she is compelled to move, the more certain she is that she doesn't want to leave Cyran's side. There's a quality in his voice as he reassures her of his choice, that thing between a laugh and a sob as he joked about not always succeeding.

It was a heartbreaking sound.

"I'm sorry I scared you." She whispers back, shifting to be closer to him as Cyran puts his arms more securely around her. As she leans into his shoulder, closing her eyes, whatever internal source lit the gold markings from within went out, leaving behind wisps of steam as the rain was finally able to land on her markings. Dust and ash, it felt... so good to hold him. To be held in turn, cradled like some precious thing, treated gently like her hands weren't stained with blood. But they both were, weren't they? "And you did succeed. If you hadn't come... I don't think I would have been able to break free on my own. You inspired me to move. If it hadn't been for you, I would still be down there." Or worse, she thinks privately. "I would come for you, too. I always will."

A solemn promise she meant to carry out, no matter what.

"Smart enough?!" She sputters, incredulous, lifting her head a little to look at him. "If anyone wasn't smart enough, it was me. I got you caught. You wouldn't have been taken if I hadn't..." hadn't been here at all, endangering you. Del bites down on those words and her lower lip. It takes a couple of seconds to find new ones. "--If I had been... better."

It's a nebulous concept, one she acknowledges with a furrowed brow even as she speaks. Better in what way? In so many ways, she had improved over the past few months. Grown into strengths she didn't know she possessed. But if she was better, then how did this happen?

The word complacency jumps into her head. She had been lax in assuming she wasn't being pursued. What had she been doing instead? Enjoying herself for the first time in forty years? Making a connection the likes of which she had never felt before? Having a life, for the first time?

She'd die before she gave that up. Gave him up. If getting captured for whatever it was she was guilty of was the cost of this sweetness, these wonderful arms around her that held her safe and secure, so be it. She would bear that a thousand times for just a few moments like this.

Instead of speaking that word, 'better', with resolve and surety, she exhales a stream of incoherent grumbles after it, leaning her head back on his shoulder again. "Mrrrfllrghlllblrgh. If I'm not allowed to be at fault, neither are you. Okay?" Her fingers trace little waves over his shoulders where she holds him close. She could feel his heartbeat against her chest.

...Should it have felt like crossing a line to be this close to Cyran without pretense? Perhaps, if she cared about such things at the moment. Right now, he had said he wante to hold her. That she was part of his life, part he didn't want to part with. He had come for her. He was safe and he was with her, and he was holding her, and gods, but it felt so right.

That he would miss this, these moments together... at least, that's what she thought he meant-- makes her clear her throat, her tongue thick and heavy with emotion. It was a sentiment she shared. "...if I had continued to live as I was," she replies slowly, "Moment to moment, moving around often to prevent... being found. I would have stayed lost. You are the one who found me. I... don't want to live the way I was again, either. I don't want to go back to being lost again."

One last, long, heavy sigh leaves Del, and she deflates. Her arms secure themselves more tightly around him, only desiring to be close, to blot out the world. "I... I only want to be with you."

“Don’t apologize.” Cyran admonished once more, though without any real heat or force behind it. “It is not something you can control. If that was only a faint echo of the panic you felt, then I can only imagine how horrible it was for you in the first place.” No, it shouldn’t have happened at all. Cyran would need to put up wards around the orphanage, protective enchantments to ward off others with harmful intentions. He was hardly a master of magic, but he could do it. He would add whatever security measures he needed to ensure that their home was safe. But there was no point in agonizing over what needed to be done now. He could feel Del growing antsy in his arms, itching to get up and do something - the last thing they needed right now was to throw themselves into what needed to be done. She was too exhausted to manage her usual work.

“I’m… grateful that you came back for me.” Cyran whispered - doubt still lingered in the edges of his voice, like he thought she should have still escaped when he managed to slip her the dart. It looked like for all he said, Cyran still needed to practice what he preached. It was difficult to see yourself as someone worth saving when you were just a contract killer with dark magic that cultists coveted. And yet, here Del was, talking about not being smart enough, not being… better.

“All the smarts in the world can’t always prepare you for the unknown.” He countered stubbornly. “They researched you - both of us. They knew the best way to counter your strengths, and how to lure me into a trap I couldn’t weasel my way out of. They played both of us, but they were obviously too confident to anticipate that you’re so much more than your power.” And they’d scraped by, somehow. It was all thanks to Del’s righteous anger that gave them enough of a chance to slip out of the grasp of the Elder Embers. It was their skill sets that had gotten them caught by those that had preyed on their weaknesses. But it was also to Del’s determination and Cyran’s quick thinking that managed to free them both.

“Then I guess neither of us are to blame, okay?” He asked, voice cracking at the seams. Like it was impossible to grant himself forgiveness, but even more so was listening to Del blame herself for getting taken against her will when he was the one that had willingly walked into a trap without taking the necessary precautions, or recognizing it for what it was. It didn’t matter anymore. It shouldn’t have to matter anymore.

His throat felt thick as Del spoke, agreeing with what he was saying. That she would have missed this too, if she hadn’t allowed herself to be found, to stop running only for a moment. Cyran was happy to have found her, too. All those months ago in that Darkveil alley, when she hadn’t expected to be found. Nor had he ever expected to find someone so much like him that it ached. That it felt natural to be by her side.

The rain continued to fall, and yet. He did not feel cold.

“I want to be with you too.” He replied. In whatever way Del would have him. She was part of his life now, and it didn’t matter that it came with possible danger, with the threat of the crown and gods knew what that followed her. It felt small in comparison. They’d survived this day - there was no telling if they’d survive the next, or the day after that. But it would not be a life wasted if that was the case. Cyran was not without his own regrets. He’d done things he wasn’t proud of, and hadn’t done what he ought to. But Cyran was happy, right now, and grateful to be alive with the woman he loved.

There was no shame in that.

“I hope to be with you for as long as you’ll have me.” He promised, rubbing small circles along her arms. Along the golden scars, giving every bit of her love and reassurance, that she was not alone. She was still here. “And I’m here to rest with you for as long as you need. It’s okay to close your eyes if need be… it’s okay to stop running for a moment.”

More than her power? Del blinks at the thought-- was she? Over the years, some days, her strength was all she had. If they had been after her for her power, her strength, whatever they had meant by 'Crucible', what they had miscalculated was how much Del cared for Cyran, how strong her desire was to move. That, to her, didn't feel like a power. But it was something, perhaps, more important. "Of course I did," she sniffs, "I couldn't ever leave you behind."

Though as he speaks, absolving them both of blame, her heart twists. "Okay." she mumbles, agreeing. She couldn't deny him anything, especially not when his voice broke under the weight of his dismay. Her arms secure him a little tighter.

"I don't know what it means. Any of it. But I don't want to lose you, and I don't... I don't want to do this alone." Her voice cracks; the admission by itself was terrifying, her soul laid bare in that moment. She had spent so, so, so much time alone. To be in someones presence, for the time she had been with Cyran, was the first time since Maruyama that she had felt the warmth of connection, the notion that she wasn't alone. The deire to hold fast to that was incredibly strong, something she was certain of.

She could feel the emotions from him. Happiness, gratitude. Directed at her, directed at her presence here, with him. Tears roll down her cheeks as his hands put out the embers under her skin. The emotions that moved through him set her alight. Made her feel like she could float, if he let go of her.

He wanted to be with her, as she did him. So, what did that mean, exactly? Del was not sure what this admission would change, if anything.

"Always it is, then." she replied, her voice hushed.

She looked forward to finding out.

Silence fills the gap for a while, as Del considers. The urge to keep going is powerful, but she cannot bring herself to pull away. She is tired. Hurt. Worn down. Scared. More than that, however, she's relieved, filled with a peace that she cannot quite define. It settles into her chest like a cloud, leaving dewdrops on her heart, encouraging her to breathe a little deeper, a little slower. He said it was okay to stop running. Maybe it was.

"I don't want to run." her voice is barely above a whisper as she sags into him a little further."If you rest with me, I will."

It was still raining. The overhang provided a little cover, but not a lot. Enough that they weren't drenched, and could dry off as they waited for the storm to blow over-- the one above and the one in the streets. Enough for them to rest.

It was difficult for Cyran to maintain his composure as Del spoke, an admission uttered in a cracked voice that sounded every bit as weary as her. Someone who’d spent decades running from the weight of the past that was still tied to her, no matter how she tried to sever herself from what she didn’t remember or understand. The loss of a mentor, the decision not to get close to others for their own safety, the constant fear of being taken and kidnapped by others that somehow knew her better than herself. Fearing that she deserved what they sent after her. And here she was, holding onto him as fiercely as he clung to her, admitting that she could no longer do this alone.

Cyran nodded, his resolve hardened. Perhaps this incident had shaken his confidence, but he couldn’t deny that Del was reaching out to him, asking for help in her own way. He’d promised to protect her in any way he could, and here Del was, years of self-sufficiency finally wearing her thin. She’d placed her trust in his hands, this little, fluttering nervous thing more fragile than anything she’d ever constructed in the forge with her own two hands. It rested with him now. Cyran could not afford to break something so beautiful.

“Alright.” He exhaled - a small sound, a relenting one. He could not forget his promises, uttered in the soft silence of the Judeia and the safety of the in. In Frostgale. He would make good on them, or die trying. “You’re not going to do this alone. We’ll figure this - all of it - together.”

Always it is then, she promised.

Cyran hoped he could help make that a reality.

And when he offered rest, the last bit of resistance keeping her awake seemed to fade away. Del relaxed into him, voice barely audible over the sound of the rain overhead and the beating of his heart in his ears, but Cyran understood what she meant all the same. No more running, not today. They had run until they could run no more. Cyran nodded, leaning his head against hers. As much as he wanted to take shifts like they’d been able to back in the Deadwoods after the destruction of Shade’s Valley, they couldn’t afford to. They were both running on fumes, injured, and overextended. Adrenaline had kept them going, the fear of losing the other forcing them to push past their limits and work until their bodies gave out from under them. And now it was time for them to pay the piper.

They’d be safe for a few minutes, he hoped. It wasn’t as if they could afford to stay awake either way. But at the very least, they would be here together.

Cyran shifted, allowing for her to rest her head in his lap if she needed. He could meditate sitting upright, but he wanted her to be as comfortable as she could. “Together.” He promised - an echo of his words earlier, as they trudged through the streets of Darkveil.

And for once in a long time, Cyran dreamed without any prompting.

Dreamt of a name, ancient and primordial - something he’d never heard in his waking life, but rested on the tip of his tongue nonetheless.

Suriel.

He was weightless, suspended in the air as naturally as if he belonged there. And then, in the blink of an eye, that light was extinguished, blown out like the wick of a candle. And the cold hands of gravity gripped him, pulling him under, down, down, down. And in it, a whispering voice that felt oddly cold and familiar, one that he’d heard before but couldn’t quite place, filled with hate and malice and disdain, a tone he belatedly remembered from a hateful god that had been intent on killing him and his family in the battle for the Sol Stone -

YOU WILL NEVER FEEL THE WARMTH OF LIGHT AGAIN.

And Cyran didn’t dream after that.

As her mind begins to drift, that word, "Together", seemed to resonate throughout this time that she had known him. His head leaned on hers, and she sighed quietly, her crown nudging against his cheek as though butting up against his head in comfortable affection, something she was too tired to deny herself. Thoughts she was too worn down not to have.

How she would make any excuse to spend extra moments in his presence; their outing at Hearth's Warming, extending her stay beyond her original intent, putting down roots. Each time, he found a new door to open up, to show her precious windows into his world. Together.

This man who so easily carried the burdens of others-- friends, family, strangers alike-- and she, in her audacity, wanted to be the one who carried him. A selfish desire, but one she couldn't bring herself to ignore. More selfish even than that, was the new but enticing feeling of being accepting of being carried, too. More yet, of being allowed to let down her guard.

Cyran hadn't turned from her when they had first met in the shadows. He did not laugh at her fears of water, or her dreams of drowning. He hadn't turned when he found out about her past from Eameia. He did not shy from her when they discussed this past, the fact that she had hidden it from him. He did not recoil from her touch, even though she had been so, so afraid of hurting him. He had proven that he would be there through those moments of weakness, and did not expect her to pick herself up and keep going, even though that was all she knew.

At least, it had been.

Together was comparitively a new concept to her... but it was one she did not think she could be without, now that she had it. Cyran was everything, to her. She would turn the world on its head for him, if she had to, even though she knew he would never ask it of her. She would build him a new one with her own two hands, if that was what it took, even though he would never ask her to.

The buzzing she had felt from those early days, those fleeting gentle touches between them, had grown into a harmonious hum, the one she had thought she had heard when the had first met. He saw her like no other.

Seeing him, too, knowing him, cherishing him, was the best she could offer. Del only hoped it would be enough.

She shifts, allowing her head to come and rest in his lap as he gently bids her, hugging him around his middle. If he leaned over on his side, her hip would make for a fine pillow as well, allowing him to recline slightly with her, the pair of shadows guarding the other's backs.

It was not a long rest; a handful of hours at most was all they could spare, and at one point, Del recalled awakening, feeling a residual sense of... something from her connection with Cyran, before her exhaustion took her under once more. She also dreamt briefly of the water, of drowning, as she always did...

--But this time Maruyama was in the water with her.

He floated across from her, starkly visible in the void. She tries to open her mouth to speak to him, but she can't, she never could in this place, her lungs thick and heavy with water. Nonetheless, he understands, giving her the serene smile she always remembered. He reached out, and took her hand in both of his, patting it in his gentle, grandfatherly way. When he pulled his hand back, she looked down to find the ring Cyran had given her resting on her finger. He dropped her a sly wink, and then melded back with the water, gone once more.

She wakes to the sound of thunder overhead, inhaling sharply as she grips Cyran tightly around his middle where she had come to rest in his lap, still and unmoving. Breathing out slowly, she closes her eyes again, losening her grip slightly so she could better relax, relish the gentle moment until they wake. The last time she had woken up, he had been trying to gently reassure her as he frantically tried to free her in that terrible place, where they were going to make her hurt him-- but, no. Del pushes that from her mind. She was safe. He was safe. They were together. No one would separate them, ever again, unless it was by their own design.

Her body, no longer flooded with adrenaline, aches horribly. Battered, bruised, injured... a couple of days of rest would do her good. But they weren't done. Not yet.

But there was something more important for her to do.

Stifling a quiet groan, she lifts her hand to her necklace, and slips her finger through the ring around her neck. Prising the chain off delicately and wrapping it around her wrist, she presses the ring to her lips in silent promise.

It felt as if there was a laden weight in the pit of Cyran’s stomach as he woke. Somewhere in the middle of the night, the assassin had drifted until he was leaning against Del’s side where she had positioned herself to provide him a place to put his head in the same way he’d given her a place to rest. Mutual trust. Perhaps once upon a time he’d be ashamed at awaking in such a compromising position, pressed in such an intimate way against Del, but months of sharing beds on missions and during travel, comfort in the tents of Frostgale, he no longer felt so nervous. There was only a faint fluttering in his chest, a hummingbird’s happiness at the fact that they hadn’t drifted away in their sleep, and the relief that she was still here and they hadn’t been found by the cultists.

He’d hoped the storm would blow itself out overnight, but his wishes were dashed as he heard the roar of thunder and the occasional crackle of lightning through the gaps in the shoddy, half-broken roof. At the sound of thunder, strong arms coiled around his torso, holding him in a firm grip. Cyran let out a soft grunt - not a pained one, more surprised than anything - before adjusting himself to get a better look at her. She was awake. He could feel her fatigue through the bond, the same tiredness that he felt all the way to his bones. But there was a resolve there. They had one last leg of the journey before they could finally declare themselves safe at home.

Or as safe as home could be at the moment, anyways.

Cyran experimentally flexed his hand, feeling the aches and pains of his body flare up. Unlike Del, though, his injuries were less physical - his body hadn’t endured the same abuse she had. They had crippled his magic and he’d fallen not long after. But now, after a night of unsteady rest, he felt sharper than he had yesterday afternoon. He could feel the shadows reaching out to him, pulling him into their embrace - lightning flashed overhead once more and the overwhelming darkness felt like a balm. He conjured the shadow to his fingertips, twisting it and moving it at his command until it took form, a spectral raven whose beak opened in an eternally silent scream, wings fluttering nervously as it swirled around his fingers before dissipating.^[1] Cyran gave a satisfied nod, reassured now that he knew everything seemed to be in working order. When he was certain that whatever the Elder Embers had done to him wasn’t permanent, he turned to Del.

Cyran’s first instinct was to ask if her dream was peaceful before remembering he’d been too depleted of reserves to even manipulate dreams. After everything, she’d still had to deal with her usual nightmare… and though he couldn’t remember his rest, for once Cyran was struck with the feeling that he’d had an odd and confusing dream, himself. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on such things, though. He pushed those thoughts aside in nudging Del in the shoulder, touch lingering on warm, scarred skin. Remembered how she’d felt the night before, so hot that if anyone else had touched her, it would have branded them. Cyran was lucky that he was cold enough that the flames didn’t bother him. But he’d meant what he’d said earlier last night. Even if she did burn, he’d still hold her close. That heat had escaped her in the night, leaving Del with her regular searing warmth.

More lightning, followed by the clap of thunder - reminding Cyran that they shouldn’t linger for long. He continued to rub small circles in her arm, rousing Del awake. “Are you feeling well enough to move? We should get back to Shade’s Valley if you’re okay.” He spoke, voice gentle. “Oriole and Andromeda are instructed to evacuate again in any event I don’t return… they’re probably worried about us.”

He offered her a small smile.

“Andromeda even cried, if you could believe it. I think she’s rather fond of you.” I am, too.

---

1. Mass Shadow Control (Shadow Dancer II)

Sensing movement, her eyes crack open ever so slightly, watching Cyran mold and move the shadows across his fingers, pulling them into shapes. A bird flapping around his finger, before vanishing. It heartens her in a way she cannot fully quantify to see such a quiet moment of contemplation, internally touching base with himself to see if he was up to the challenge. She knew he was. The slight way his brows bent inward in concentration was terribly endearing.

Again, her eyes close, relishing the respite of the storm surrounding them, of Cyran's cool body so near to her own, of knowing he was safe and with her. Perhaps it was about time... she used action instead of words to convey how much that meant.

Her eyes flutter a little as Cyran's fingers brush over the scars of her arm, exhaling a slow, contented sigh. She couldn't quite lean into his touch from her angle, but she doesn't resist, quietly reveling in the way his caress lingers on her skin. She was too tired to feel flustered or panicked by such gentleness, such casual intimacy in how he languidly touched old wounds; it felt surreal, even, to be experiencing it. If Del didn't know any better, she'd think she was dreaming.

But, oh, this was far better than anything she could dream of.

"I can manage," she murmurs, reassuring him. "I'm not the best judge of whether or not I'm 'fit', I'm afraid." Too much history of pushing through injury and strife for that. Del opens her eyes to look at him, watching him draw gentle circles on her arm with a warmth flickering in her amber eyes. "That's good that they know to do that. We should-- oh?" Her gaze shifts back to his, surprised. Andromeda had... cried for her?

"She did?" She swallows, feeling the need to fidget, suddenly. Despite feeling unworthy of such concern, Del cannot quell her own smile. "I am... that's... I hardly know what to do with that. I'm touched to say the least." Del sits up a little more, not quite willing to leave the comfort of his embrace just yet, but knowing they had to start getting a move on, "Back when she stayed behind to help me with the victims in Darkveil during the quake, she gave me a bit of a subtle warning to treat you well. She's quite protective of you." The corner of her mouth twitches upwards in a little rueful smile. "I was more expecting her to give me what-for for making you come after me like that. Hardly making life easier for you."

She sits up, grimacing at her soreness and the injuries that litter her body. It could have been a lot worse, of course; at least she can still walk. But instead of getting up straight away, she leans forward to touch her forehead against Cyran's, closing her eyes for a breath as the rain cascades down around them. It felt like pressing her head to cool steel, refreshing and solid all at once. "Thank you for coming for me, my Rogue."

Opening her eyes, she pulls back slightly with a small smile. "We should go see to the kids, yes?"

Gentle caresses, quiet voices rough with sleep deprivation and the last vestiges of sleep. A scene that one might mistake for domestic, if it weren’t for the rain still dripping through leaks in the roof, preventing the two from properly getting dry and warm, and the feeling of unease in the air, the fear that they might never be safe again. And yet, they persisted, stealing moments of peace where they could, forcing the world to give them these little pockets of happiness. Little moments of happiness Cyran wished he could stretch into eternity, but knew that the scarcity was what made them precious.

But gods, he was so tired of this game, of forcing and begging and bartering with the fates for even a modicum of sanctuary.

He huffed a laugh as Del finally spoke, an impossibly fond sound. He was all too aware of Del’s proclivity for pushing herself past her limits. A superhuman who was constantly breaking herself down until she came back stronger, like a muscle. A workout that had a horrifying chance of spraining or tearing. Though it was hopelessly endearing hearing her admit as such. There were others, he was certain, that might have seen Del’s ferocious strength and tenacity as something Greater, something that elevated her above others. The weapon. The Crucible. Something others could use. But how could they not look at her, a shooting star who burned bright and fell even faster with grim determination to knock her limitations to the ground along with whatever stood in her way - how could they look at her, hopelessly reckless and stubborn, treating her body like a battered temple that deserved no care, and not see something so hopelessly, endearingly human?

And how could Cyran not want to make the pilgrimage to pay homage at that temple’s altar, and love it as it was?

“Well. In that case, I suppose I’ll just have to return the favor and carry you back to the orphanage, yes?” There was a ghost of humor in his voice, an attempt to lighten the mood. They both knew that he did not possess her Herculean strength, much less the musculature to pick someone up and carry them for an extended period of time. He sighed, wistful, continuing his gentle motions along her arms, almost like a massage. An attempt to relieve any of her burden before they set off again. Despite the jesting, Cyran knew they could no longer afford to wait here. They could move, and that was enough to make the trek. He did not want to move, to break this scene and invite misery to knock on their door once more. But they had to.

Del offered him a small smile at the mention of his apprentice, the uncertainty in the corners of her eyes but the genuine surprise. He understood the feeling. Andromeda was hardly an emotional woman, much less someone who showed her care for people. One might see her stern glare and hear her rough words and think she hated them. Cyran certainly did most of the time. But she showed her care through her actions, even with a stony face and harsh insistences that she did not hold you in high regard, despite all evidence to the contrary. “That is certainly how she will berate you upon our return.” He mused, somewhat pleasantly surprised himself to learn that Andromeda had gone through such lengths on his behalf. He, too, often thought that she only tolerated him at best. “Both of us, I’m assuming. I can already imagine her when we get home. ‘I can’t believe you two found yourselves in such a compromising position, I was this close to coming to rescue you myself.’” Another joke, a try at making things lighter than they presently were before his expression grew serious. “They do worry about you. They hold you in very high regard.”

He shifted backwards as Del pulled herself into a sitting position, pressing her forehead to his. Cyran closed his eyes, relishing in this familiar position. Her presence against his. “And thank you for coming back for me. My hero.”

Pulling themselves to their feet was a slow, laborious affair. If they thought they were exhausted within the aftermath the destruction of Shade’s Valley, this was an entirely different beast. A combination of drugs coursing through their system and pushing themselves past their limit, and the poison of adrenaline. But they managed. Before they left the confines of the old Ironwood Ore and Timber, Cyran held out his hand, summoning a pitch-black parasol to his waiting palm.^[1,2] “Come here,” He gestured for her to get close, until they were pressed shoulder to shoulder. Enough so that they would both be covered from the rain and thunder, and shield their face as they walked. Once they were close, he opened the door and they stepped outside.

Homecoming, after everything.

---

Cyran could have cried when he saw Shade’s Valley if he had any tears or energy left to shed. As whole as it ever was, and mercilessly free of people lurking in the shadows. Cyran stopped them, making sure to double check that there were no embers or cultists lingering around waiting for them to return. But after their escape, and Del’s cave in, he doubted they could muster the strength or the forces to launch another organized attack as they had. A small miracle - safety, for now. Despite the relative safety of the streets, Cyran led them around back, away from the front door. He was not so overconfident as to believe that because he saw no one, their house was not under surveillance.

He brought them to a back wall, a place that provided a lot of natural cover. The wall that leading to his main office. Under the cover of the rooftop, Cyran closed his umbrella, pointing the tip in the wall and drawing a door in the shadow.^[3] The two stepped inside, Cyran closing the door behind them -

Only to be greeted by a quarterstaff to sail through the air, aimed right for his face.

Cyran sidestepped, jabbing his hand against the attacker’s shoulder right at a nervous spot to force them to drop the weapon - a disarming move.^[4] Oriole yelped in pain, his weapon clattering to the floor. Cyran stepped forward, putting both of his hands on the young thief’s shoulders to keep him from running away or screaming. The young man squirmed, trying his best to wriggle away, unable to see the intruders in the dark, acting on his instinct to escape, get away, get help.

“Oriole. Don’t panic, it’s us.”

Oriole stilled, rapidly blinking his eyes to adjust to the dark light.

“Master Cyran? Miss Del?” His voice wavered.

Cyran offered his apprentice a tired smile. “We’re home.”

This time, he did not push back as Oriole threw himself at them once more, wrapping his arms around Cyran and Del in a tight hug. With his face buried in Cyran’s shoulder, he could feel Oriole’s tears.

---

1. Summon: Possession
2. Umbrella Combo
3. Create Door
4. Viper Dance

She laughs softly at his joke, touched all the same; she was likely too heavy for him to carry, but she was sure, if it came to it, he would find a way. Cyran was quite good at that. And the idea of her being carried? What a thrill that would be. "Or we could cut out the middle man and just lie down in the street together." she comments lightly, her smile widening with mirth.

The laugh grows a little as Cyran muses as to what exactly Andromeda's scolding might entail, trying to stifle the sound for the sake of stealth and because it hurts to laugh, ow. "We will certainly be getting an earful, I think," she chuckles wryly-- despite the inclement berating they were due, she welcomed it. Much like the catharsis of the storm around them, it was necessary to express such things, and bear witness to them. Del wouldn't shy away from the truth of Andromeda or Oriole.

That felt more anxiety inducing, in some ways. Del was cognizant that she was not of Shade's Valley, and had been brought in and introduced with different expectations than what Cyran had for Andromeda and Oriole. Cyran's acceptance of her, his willingness to bring her into his home, was a beast unto itself-- it felt uniquely jarring to be accepted, wanted, worried for by the other members of his family. She was not only part of Cyran's family, but theirs, too.

And they part of hers.

"I... worry for and hold them in high regard as well," she gives him a small, shy smile. And you, too.

Hearing him call her his hero brings a deep flush to her cheeks; she did not feel like a hero, only an old, tired fool who was too stubborn for her own good... but in Cyran's mouth, those words and what they meant coming from him was not an impact she could ignore. She exhales slowly. There was no possible reality in which she would not have gone back for him, she was sure. "Always." Del whispers back.

Getting to their feet was worse than the act of moving; sore joints and muscles stuck in one position for such a long time protest the act of moving, but they both power through, until they are standing once more. Chip reemerges from where he had taken refuge in Del's tunic once she had cooled down, and finds a spot to nestle within her hair. As Cyran asks her to come to him, holding his arm out to invite her under the canopy of his parasol (when had he gotten that?), he would not need to ask her twice. Drawn inexorably to his side, Del slips her arm around his back, for the comfort of the both of them while walking side by side... and because she wanted to. Wanted to be close. She touches her temple to his cheek, and nods faintly. "Let's go home."

---

The sight of Shade's Valley approaching closer is both a relief and a deep source of apprehension. Del cannot help but scan the rooftops, the alleys, every crate and loose pile of rubble they pass on their way back to the doors. The rain has washed away much of the evidence of the scuffle, including her little golden flower petals and whatever blood was shed. She squeezes Cyran gently as he leads them around back, taking care to be as quiet as possible. She watches with wide eyes, wondering if she was hallucinating for a moment, as Cyran draws a door in the wall with the tip of his umbrella. That was... well, incredible, but how could she expect less of Cyran. She gives him a weary look of admiration, and walks through the door with him--

Cyran sees the quarterstaff before she does. He seemed to be expecting it, quickly moving and disarming the attacker with ease and subduing-- no, not subduing. Calming them.

It was Oriole.

Del visibly sags with relief, halfway between a heart attack and her instinct to lash out when swung at as it abruptly leaves. Hearing her name spoken with such surprised disbelief nearly breaks her heart anyway. He truly was worried.

She does not resist as the young man hugs them tight, hugging both him and Cyran fiercely as he embraces them with his own tears."It's alright hon, we're here, we're back." she hushes Oriole's tears gently, her own prickling at her eyes again. Sad they had worried him so much, sad that "we're here" was the best she could offer in the moment. Were they unharmed? No. Were they okay? No, but they would be.

And at the end of the day, that was what mattered.

"Are you and the children okay?" she asks Oriole, sniffing a little. "Where is Andromeda? Is she alright, too?"

Oriole sniffled, furiously trying to blink away the tears as Del cleaned them away. He was not wearing his mask at the moment, as it was not common for Cyran’s apprentices to do so when they were around the orphanage. He looked embarrassed at the display of emotion, but there was no denying it. Cyran had pulled him from a hard situation in the desert, and Miss Del had been so kind to him ever since she arrived in their lives. The thought of something happening to either of them, and the prospect of being alone again, it was too much for him to bear. So he was thankful they were here. That they were back.

He didn’t care that ‘being here’ was the best that Del could offer, because it meant she was still here in the first place to offer such assurances. Even if they weren’t okay. Oriole could only hope that they would be.

“The - the kids are fine.” Oriole hiccuped, stammering out the words as Cyran rubbed small circles along his back. “They miss you guys. We kept them in the bunker for the night so they’re… sore, but they’re safe. We were scared those cultists might try to make a repeat appearance.”

Cyran nodded. “You did well.” He assured the young thief. “I promise you that this is not a typical situation, nor is it one I’d ever hoped to force you to be in. But I’m proud of you.”

Oriole wrinkled his nose. He didn’t look like he’d done anything worth being proud of, especially with Cyran and Del the ones covered in so many cuts and bruises that it was difficult to imagine how they were still standing. But he didn’t feel like protesting at the moment.

“Andromeda’s fine. She’s upset. She wishes she could’ve done more to help.” Oriole explained, fidgeting with his tunic. “But we’re… we’re alive, and we held down the house, Master Cyran. We were just worried about the both of you. What happened?”

Cyran pursed his lips. There was too much to tell, too much he still didn’t understand. Far much more than he could get into here, standing awkwardly in his office while the kids still needed attending to. He placed his hand gently on Oriole’s shoulder, hoping that he looked reassuring rather than just haggard. “I’ll explain everything later. Why don’t you bring the kids into the kitchen? I’ll go make us some tea, and get breakfast started.”

Even now he needed to keep moving. Though they expressed it in different ways, Cyran was a lot like Del in that regard. There was still work to be done, and a home to be maintained. Kids that needed reassuring that everything was going to be okay. He squeezed Del’s hand, moving on instinct. To be honest, Cyran wasn’t entirely sure what was guiding him right now, but he was tired of withholding himself from his natural instincts, his desire to be close to her. So he pressed a small kiss to her cheek, light and quick and chaste, before pulling away.

“Please, sit down.” He requested. “I’ll make us something to eat, and… we can just breathe.”

Oriole explaining the situation as they had left it hurts, in a sweet way. The children had missed Cyran... and her? She was terribly fond of the little ones, had been ever since their first meeting months ago, but she hadn't thought that her absence would in any way have caused them pain. She hugs Oriole a little tighter. "You did a great job keeping everyone safe. I know it wasn't easy, and I'm proud of you, too."

When he asks what happened, Del grimaces a little, shoulders sagging. ...Where to begin? The story started long befoer the events of today, after all-- that this was her fault, by and large. But as Cyran says he will explain later, asking for the others to be brought out of hiding and into the kitchen, Del nods in agreement. "Right now, we should focus on being together and reassuring everyone. We can have a debrief once everyone is settled in."

As Oriole leaves to do just that, Del feels a squeeze at their joined hands. She returns the gesture, opening her mouth to say something, when there's a press of soft lips to her cheek that makes the words die in her throat, and bring tears to her eyes again by the sheer sincerity of it. Oh, this man had a fierce hold of her heart.

As Cyran goes to pull away, he finds his hand held fast in Del's. Not a crushing grip, but one that was intended to... well to what, exactly? She hadn't exactly thought this through. It had been an instinct of her own, to prevent him from leaving her side so quickly, so soon after he kissed her cheek with such light, casual affection.

That wasn't the first time either; on the Judeia, after their not-a-date on Hearth's Day, he had given her these little kisses, to her hands, her temples, her cheeks. Each and every one had singed a mark onto her soul, each one given just as he left so she could not react. Not that she had known how to, not then. If she was being honest, she barely knew how to react even now, as they stood there with this heavy silence between them for a second or two, as she held his hand.

Well. Her instincts had been solid so far, hadn't they?

Del swallows, and lets her body move. Slowly, deliberately, Del lifts Cyran's captured hand up to her face, and presses a kiss to his knuckles, light but lingering, her eyes not once leaving his until her lips brushed his skin and she had to close her eyes. Of all the weeks she had been Elen, of all the little intimacies they had shared over the past months, this, this, was a fire like no other. This was not something granted in passing, this was no facade to keep up an appearance; this was Delaela, returning and indulging in a moment of affection here in the kitchen where only a couple of days before, they had danced together to ease his worry. This was purposeful. It was her doing this and no one else, for no other reason that either of them would be able to scramble for than this-- because she wanted to. Because she wished to show him how much he meant to her.

Because she needed him to know what her response was to these little kisses he bestowed on her. A wholehearted acceptance. Reciprocation.

Just breathing.

It only takes a handful of seconds from start to finish, but until moment she lowers and releases his hand, it feels as though time had stopped. Del gives him a fond little smile and pulls out the chair to take a seat, as he requested. Too tired to fight and be stubborn, though she would love if he sat down and rested too. Del knew it wasn't that simple, though. It never was, when it came to people like the two of them. When there was time, another slow moment... perhaps she would have words that were worthy of him.

 "I can peel some potatoes in the meantime, if we have any." she offers, reaching over to snag a cutting board off the counter.

“It truly wasn’t much…” Oriole mumbled. It wasn’t as if they were under any true threat. Those cultists had gotten what they wanted when they captured Miss Del. Oriole wasn’t always the most perceptive, but there hadn’t been a peep from the suspicious, gray-robed men that had shown up at their door. Those cultists weren’t interested in the kids. But he’d done as he thought Master Cyran would want, and held down the fort, no matter how much the anxiety gnawed at him, the fear that his teacher would not be coming back. His shoulders stiffened when both elves skirted around giving him an answer. He could not blame them, he guessed. It seemed like a long story… though he worried. But, work. Collecting the kids and Andromeda to check on everyone. He could do that.

“Alright.” He nodded at aster Cyran, pausing for a moment when Master Cyran moved to give Del a small, chaste kiss in departure… and Miss Del responded. Oh. That made a lot more sense. Deciding to leave them alone for a private moment, Oriole made his way to the trapdoor, collecting the children from their hiding place.

It was habit that made Cyran flee, he supposed. He was so used to giving love to others without receiving it that it was only second nature for him to depart before he had to face judgment. He didn’t want the chance to learn whether it would be reciprocated or met with disgust or even indifference. Could not stand that agonizing vulnerability. But before he could slip away to the kitchen, Del’s hand darted out to clamp around his, strong but not overpowering, with a force and sincerity that seemed to surprise ever her for a moment. Cyran turned, staring at her, his lips parted in surprise. His throat felt dry, so dry. He thought he knew what she might do in return… he didn’t dare to hope.

He thought he might know what Del would do in response, and yet, his entire, aching body felt alight and nervous as Del brought her lips to the back of his hand, pressing a small kiss to the back of his fingers. Reciprocation indeed.

… Oh.

Truly, Cyran wondered if this was what love was supposed to feel like.

He’d ushered the call, but never felt its echo.

It felt like coming home, truly.

His eyes fluttered shut, body managing to relax from its coiled tension. Perhaps one day they would speak about this great thing that had been built between them, between a carpenter’s skilled hands and a father’s dedication, but Cyran didn’t need words. Her actions and feelings were more than enough for him. That piece of her soul that had become inexplicably intertwined with his already resonated like it belonged.

When she spoke next, Del was already moving with the stubbornness that said, if you’re moving, so am I. Cyran could not begrudge her help if she wanted to move. He nodded, gently prying the blood and water-stained jacket off of his torso, shivering a little from the cold. He didn’t want the kids to see him like this, and more importantly, he wasn’t going to cook with crime that could contaminate the food. “Potatoes are over there… I think we have a few eggs left, too, I’ll make some.”

Water set to boil over the kettle for tea, eggs in the pan and potatoes boiling. Soon enough they had a sizable breakfast, hearty despite their lower food reserves. The smell was welcoming enough to bring the children, accompanied by Oriole and Andromeda, into the kitchen, where they swarmed Cyran and Del for hugs and kisses before settling into their tables, playing games, and scribbling pictures into the wood with bits of charcoal and ash. Andromeda gave the two a hard look, blue eyes steely in an attempt to guard her emotions.

She opened her mouth, reconsidered, and closed it again before she crossed her arms. Though Cyran could tell her eyes were misty at the sight of the both of them safe. She hadn’t failed them.

“You guys took too long. Aren’t you supposed to be the professionals here?” She demanded, masking fear and anxiety with callousness.

Cyran rubbed at the back of his neck, too tired to argue. He knew she meant well. “Even the most trained can be caught unaware. Don’t let experience make you complacent, or assume that the more you learn, the more untouchable you are.”

Andromeda pursed her lips.

“What did they want with you?”

Cut straight to the point like a knife. From where he was making tea at the counter, Oriole paused, turning his attention to the conversation. Cyran glanced at Del, hesitating for a moment. He would not share more than she was willing to, but the barest facts should have been okay. “A group of… fanatics. They wanted to collect people that they had identified as powerful.”

Andromeda’s gaze flicked towards Del.

“I guess that makes sense.” She said, remembering watching Del’s rage towards that thief during the quake. “Are they going to come back?”

“I don’t know.”

An honest admission. They’d probably taken out a good amount of their numbers, especially Del’s work with the cave-in. But he would never allow himself the satisfaction of thinking they were completely safe. Not anymore.

He turned his attention back to Del, taking in her features. The scar along the bridge of her nose, the exhaustion in the bags of her eyes, the dampness still clinging to her curls. The fire in her eyes that almost seemed brighter, as if there was still some part of her that seemed more… vibrant after tapping into her power. There were still a lot of things Cyran didn’t understand. But there was one thing he was certain of. He’d almost lost her to power-hungry fanatics who’d seen nothing but the value that her fists and her fury could provide. He’d almost lost her to the people that wanted to bring the Crucible back.

If he’d almost lost her at the toss of a coin, there was no point in beating around the bush, was there?

Cyran sipped at his own tea, the anxiety vanishing. Odd, how certain he felt now. Perhaps because this progression felt natural.

“I like this.” He asserted, voice soft. “I like having this life together. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep those men away from us.” He wanted nothing more than to draw his gaze away from her so he didn’t have to face her scrutiny, but Cyran resisted the instinct to stare at his feet. It felt important he keep his attention and her and only her while he said this. An attempt to allow himself something, for once. “I, I think I want…”

The words died in his throat. Perhaps he, too, had never learned how to express himself. After all, he’d never thought himself important enough to bother giving voice to these things. He twisted the ring on his finger, heavy where it had sat ever since Frostgale.

And he wanted so much that it was almost too much to bear.

“I think I love…”

No. Too much.

"I want to protect it, in whatever capacity you'll have me at your side...?"

Del moves to wash as well, joining Cyran in the kitchen to move through the task of cooking, helping one another to build a little normalcy for the kids as they came back to join them. With both of their combined efforts, they have a delicious and hearty meal in no time. Though she still feels the nee to keep going, she does have to stop when they run into the room, throwing their little arms around her in a pile of hugs. Del kneels down to embrace them fiercely in turn, nearly knocked over by the enthusiasm. It hurts, but it's worth it, kissing each child on the top of their head before turning them loose on the breakfast.

As Andromeda enters the room, Del moves to sit back in her chair, trying not to wince, but giving the young woman a sheepish smile. She can only dip her head in silent agreement with Cyran's words, letting him address his apprentice before she speaks up. "You did amazing, Andromeda." Del assures her, her expression genuine. She had not forgotten Cyran's words, that the young, cantankerous apprentice had been distraught at her disappearance. It was important she knew it wasn't her fault, her responsiblity, for what had happened. "They knew... specifically what they were after and how to get it." she says evenly. That was true, but again, best not to get into the grittier details with the younger children here. "You did exactly as I would have done in your place, and you succeeded in making sure everyone was safe. I'm proud of you. Have some food, I'm sure you're tired after all night of keeping such a vigilant watch, yes?" She gives her an encouraging, if tired look.

And then... quiet words draw her attention back to Cyran, his singular eye gazing at her with raw vulnerability that she cannot ignore. And in that lovely eye, she finds... something she could only have dreamed of. He liked this. Them.

She could not look away from his gaze, his bruised face as he looked at her as though she was the only person in the room. In the world. He swore to protect her, and what they had. That he enjoyed what they had, this modicum of sanctuary that they had found with eachother. It was almost like he was reading her thoughts, speaking them softly to her.

He stops and stutters through a couple of sentences, unable to complete the words... what he wanted. And more.

Her heart was beating in her throat, and if she opened her mouth now, surely it would leap clear out of her body. Her bond was something she had cherished so deeply, and their words and actions in Frost Gale had cemented the mutualness of their... interest. This-- this quiet confession in the kitchen while the children chattered around them-- it was sacred. Like the exchanging of their rings so many months ago, this was a moment just for them.

Del swallows her doubts, her fears, her worry she was not good enough for him, that she was nothing but trouble. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes... of all the things she had experienced and seen today, this was the one that had left her the most breathless. The man of her dreams wanted her.

And gods, but she wanted him too. This life, this family, this home.

Exhaling a shaky breath, she moves to take his free hand, running her thumb over his knuckles gently, trying to warm him a little. She could tell he was still cold. "I... I like this, too." she replies, her voice soft. He really was the best thing that had ever happened to her. "What we have is... very special to me. You're very special to me. I want... I'm..." She openes her mouth to say more, and then closes it. There were so many words she wanted to say, but none of them seemed to want to come up properly. And with so many children running around, it was not the best moment to explore that word he had said, 'love' and all that it went with. It stuck in her head like an arrow, piercing her. Love.

Instead, Del moves her chair closer. Her eyes, soft and unsheilded, never leaving his face. She sits with him, hip to hip, and gently moves his hand, shifting it up and over her shoulders, while hers hugs around his narrow waist. Her muscles protest and twinge at every movement, but there is nowhere else she would rather be at this moment than with him, and the incessant fluttering in her chest insists she do this. Be close. "Always," she murmurs, lifting her eyes to him again with a small, shy smile. "And I at yours."

The children squealed in delight as they were showered in kisses and affection and love from Del and Cyran alike, not a single darling missed. Little hands tugged at Cyran’s hair, clambering up their headmaster’s shoulders like a jungle gym. The weight was hell on his sore body, but any pain was worth the simple love and adoration from kids who loved and depended on him, who felt safe in his arms. This - these smiling faces - that was the reason he’d built this place. To give these children a home where they could feel safe, and have someone at the end of the day that would hold them and kiss their worries away. Where they could grow and flourish outside of the worries of the world. He’d thought he’d cried himself dry these past few hours, but as he joyfully scooped up the children all excited to see them home, he found that his vision was already growing misty, his cheeks aching from how his broad smile stretched them thin.

As the excitement died down, Andromeda watched Del with something akin to confusion on her face. How in the world could Del be proud of her? It wasn’t like she’d done anything worth celebrating. Andromeda could only watch as her teacher’s partner was taken from under her nose, a woman that appeared to be invincible. What chance did she ever stand? How could Del stand there and say that she’d protected people?

“Don’t give praise that I haven’t earned yet.” Andromeda snapped, twirling on her feet and making her way out of the kitchen. She’d been slacking far too much in the past few months. Too focused on the kids. She needed to get back to training. While the rest of the group debriefed, Andromeda was going to go out back, where there were a few straw dummies and targets set up for target practice. And she wasn’t going to leave until her hands were nicked and bloody and she felt she’d earned that pride.

Cyran watched her go, lips pursed. He had an idea of where she was going, but he’d give her some space for the time being. Shooting an apologetic glance towards Del, he mouthed, ‘She’s feeling guilty’. He picked himself up with a couple children in his arms, back popping and muscles screaming in protest as he moved.

“Come on, poppets. Miss Del and I made breakfast for you. Are you hungry after playing hide and seek for so long?”

A chorus of a resounding ‘YES!’ Echoed through the dining hall while children were seated, and Oriole went around passing plates to hungry kids. Cyran waited until the children had received food to make a plate for Del, then himself. Allowed his words to simmer, his heart hammering in his chest. Had she heard him say love? There was no way she didn’t. Despite everything they’d been through, he still didn’t know if it was right to voice those words yet. But when Del grabbed his hand in hers, gently massaging his battered and cut knuckles as if they were a precious treasure to hold, Cyran knew that was answer enough.

And where words failed, her arms snaking around his waist, a present warmth and soft comfort, arms that had been alight with flame against her enemies only yesterday - well, it felt impossible to dream, but this was no dream, was it? This was real, and Del had already accepted him for who he was. And now, she’d accepted this. Them. It felt… good, this mutual understanding. Like a barrier between them crumbled, one last wall keeping them apart.

Cyran leaned his head against hers.

Side by side, as if that was the most natural thing.

“I don’t know what the future will hold.” Cyran said, gazing around the table at children stuffing their faces, Oriole politely eating. “Things keep changing, growing more and more unstable. But… I don’t know. There is a lot that I find I don’t know, the older I get. But I do know this. Those people think you are only good for tearing things down, but I’ve seen the beauty that these hands can build with my own eyes.” He readjusted his grip, holding her scarred hand in his own. “And I can’t express how beautiful it is to me, that you took the time and effort to learn how to do something you were not made for. No matter what they say about you - you, you fix things Del. That is what the Crucible is to me.”

He remembered the story that she’d told him once, about carpenter’s tools that were not natural in her hands, the frustration she’d felt. How easy it would have been to give up… but she hadn’t.

“And in the midst of all that uncertainty, you’ve helped fix… me. I never thought that I was someone who deserved to be amongst people. I’d resigned myself to a life of watching, never participating. But you’ve helped make me want to participate, and live again. You did that. You reforged yourself into someone utterly kind and strong and you’ve never stopped helping people since, despite the danger it might pose to yourself. You brought toys to my kids. You fixed up this place for free. And, um…”

What was he trying to say again? He’d lost the plot somewhere along the line. Trying to keep himself from being tongue-tied, Cyran steeled himself, took a deep breath, and stared at their interlocked hands when he spoke again.

“So what I mean is, I think that life is too short to refrain from being happy anymore. That said… um, there’s supposed to be a gallery in town in the coming weeks. Do you want to come with me? As my partner?”