the darkness falls around me at night
I catch the furs and drape them over one arm with a nod of thanks. I’m still too hot from the fight to bundle up yet, but the cold’s creeping closer—I’ll cave soon. Zuriel watches me like she’s not quite convinced I’m worth her time yet, and I flash her a dry little smile. Fair enough.
As Deimos talks, something in me tightens and eases at the same time. Hearing him speak so casually about things I grew up with as legends is like stars being plucked out of the sky, held out in his palm to me. Close enough to touch. Real. Burning. Fellow Outlanders is a term he uses, and I smile fondly.
I glance his way. “Sometimes I feel like all I do is tell people about them. My parents. Like I’m dragging a banner I haven’t earned yet. I’m proud to be theirs. But I’m trying to become someone too. Not just the kid of two people who made… big decisions.”
I don’t name them, but the thoughts press in anyway. The choice they made to run, to hide. For me. I carry it with me every day.
But then Deimos says I started the right way. That today counts, even if it's starting small.
I straighten a little without meaning to, exhaustion pushed aside by something brighter. “I can do that.” I grin, still breathless but not from the fight anymore. “And if I keep not dying, I’d like to do more. Be actually helpful.”
I glance his way again, this time with a spark of mischief behind the sincerity. “Would you ever consider teaching me for a day? Combat, strategy, whatever else.” My grin tugs wider. “I can cook a really great meal out of just about anything.” Then I glance at one of the ashen piles that used to be a void-luxere. “Unless it’s that.”
As Deimos talks, something in me tightens and eases at the same time. Hearing him speak so casually about things I grew up with as legends is like stars being plucked out of the sky, held out in his palm to me. Close enough to touch. Real. Burning. Fellow Outlanders is a term he uses, and I smile fondly.
I glance his way. “Sometimes I feel like all I do is tell people about them. My parents. Like I’m dragging a banner I haven’t earned yet. I’m proud to be theirs. But I’m trying to become someone too. Not just the kid of two people who made… big decisions.”
I don’t name them, but the thoughts press in anyway. The choice they made to run, to hide. For me. I carry it with me every day.
But then Deimos says I started the right way. That today counts, even if it's starting small.
I straighten a little without meaning to, exhaustion pushed aside by something brighter. “I can do that.” I grin, still breathless but not from the fight anymore. “And if I keep not dying, I’d like to do more. Be actually helpful.”
I glance his way again, this time with a spark of mischief behind the sincerity. “Would you ever consider teaching me for a day? Combat, strategy, whatever else.” My grin tugs wider. “I can cook a really great meal out of just about anything.” Then I glance at one of the ashen piles that used to be a void-luxere. “Unless it’s that.”
Theea
and covers me in silence so bright
