Safrin
Safrin nods, the motion slow and graceful, like a star blooming in the hush between constellations. Her hand lifts again, but this time it doesn’t just flick through his hair or linger in suggestion. Instead, she wraps her arm around his shoulders, drawing him in—not forcefully, not possessively, but with a familiarity born of trust. "Your heart," she murmurs, her head tilting so the light brushes softly across her cheek, "is one of your finest traits, Zavien. But even the brightest hearts can cast long shadows if they’re always bending toward someone else’s sorrow."
Her fingers curl gently against the fabric at his shoulder, and the warmth of her embrace settles like sunlight breaking through cloud.
"As a dragoon, you were taught to act for the sake of the whole," she says, her voice low but steady, the kind of tone that sinks deep, meant to be remembered. "And if you are to lead, that doesn’t change. The feelings of one person can’t weigh more than the safety of the squad. Or a city."
Her eyes flick to the skyline again, where Stormbreak glimmers dimly through the haze of distance and memory. "How many weeks has it been since Dahlia left?" she asks softly, the question more a thought spoken aloud. "If Sohalia still believes herself to be the Heart of Stormbreak, then where has she been?" There is no venom in the question, no scorn. Only truth, as ancient and patient as the stars.
She leans in a touch closer, her voice almost a secret between them. "I know it doesn’t come easily. That kindness tugs you back when certainty tells you to move forward, but you mustn’t let one girl’s feelings stand above the safety and security of an entire region." A gentle squeeze punctuates the words, not scolding but grounding. Not asking him to be cruel—just clear-eyed.
Then, her arm lingers for a breath longer, before easing back, giving him space again. "Talk with her," Safrin agrees with a knowing smile. "But remember what you’ve built. And who you’ve become." With that, starlight gathers at her heels, rising in soft spirals that catch the edge of her gown and dissolve into the air. She gives Zavien one last, radiant look—equal parts pride and promise—before she vanishes into the night, leaving only the faintest shimmer behind.
~FIN
Her fingers curl gently against the fabric at his shoulder, and the warmth of her embrace settles like sunlight breaking through cloud.
"As a dragoon, you were taught to act for the sake of the whole," she says, her voice low but steady, the kind of tone that sinks deep, meant to be remembered. "And if you are to lead, that doesn’t change. The feelings of one person can’t weigh more than the safety of the squad. Or a city."
Her eyes flick to the skyline again, where Stormbreak glimmers dimly through the haze of distance and memory. "How many weeks has it been since Dahlia left?" she asks softly, the question more a thought spoken aloud. "If Sohalia still believes herself to be the Heart of Stormbreak, then where has she been?" There is no venom in the question, no scorn. Only truth, as ancient and patient as the stars.
She leans in a touch closer, her voice almost a secret between them. "I know it doesn’t come easily. That kindness tugs you back when certainty tells you to move forward, but you mustn’t let one girl’s feelings stand above the safety and security of an entire region." A gentle squeeze punctuates the words, not scolding but grounding. Not asking him to be cruel—just clear-eyed.
Then, her arm lingers for a breath longer, before easing back, giving him space again. "Talk with her," Safrin agrees with a knowing smile. "But remember what you’ve built. And who you’ve become." With that, starlight gathers at her heels, rising in soft spirals that catch the edge of her gown and dissolve into the air. She gives Zavien one last, radiant look—equal parts pride and promise—before she vanishes into the night, leaving only the faintest shimmer behind.
~FIN
