tell her to find me an acre of land

Maea

And it feels like fear
Like I'll disappear

It was a strange feeling, this having nowhere to return to. With the remnants of her camp cleaned up and her few remaining items wrapped up in a bundle, Maea slumped onto a bench where Melita had started a game of hide and seek a few days ago, and tried to summon the will to think. It was harder than it ought to be. For once her thoughts didn't race, only wriggled in sluggish circles, avoiding anything that resembled decision-making. Maybe she was simply tired. It had been a long day already, of sorting through and cleaning and burning the trash, and it wasn't over yet. She still needed to find a place to stay. An inn, maybe, though given the onrush of travelers to the woods lately any rooms would likely be taken. It was why she'd been camping in the first place; without a job to earn income, the funds were rapidly running out. 

She hadn't planned for an extended stay out here. Hadn't meant to spend her days chasing miracles. Perhaps she ought to try and settle herself somewhere and plan for the eventuality that no roses would appear, that she couldn't return to Torchline after all, that this silvan realm would be the closest thing to that new start she'd hoped for... Maea just didn't want to. It smacked too closely of giving up. Not even half a season in and she was already on the verge of quitting? No way. Never! 

But. There was no denying that she had reached an impasse here, and as she watched the fae and the outside visitors mill along the winding paths with weary eyes, she kept coming up empty on how to proceed. No plans were forming; even the options had run dry, unless she wanted to live out her days in a shift and go completely feral.

Gets so hard to steer
Yet I go on

let's not get lost in the dark blue

The Greatwood hums with life around him, leaves whispering with the touch of an unseen breeze, the thick scent of damp earth and growing things wrapping around his senses. Remi walks with his wings tucked in tightly, their broad span a quiet weight against his back. Despite the soft rustle of foliage underfoot, his steps are soundless, absorbed into the endless hush of the forest that he'd called his home once upon a time.

He's here on a task—one given by Mort himself—but his heart isn't in it, not fully. There's an edge of quiet desperation threading through his actions as he scans the ground, the winding paths, the underbrush, hoping—stupidly, desperately—that maybe he’ll just find the flower outright. Maybe Vi will take pity on him. Maybe something, for once, will just be easy.

But no. No rose petals catch his eye, no miracle blooms in his path. Just dappled sunlight, the shifting sway of the canopy, and the ever-present ache in his chest.

Sighing, Remi shifts his attention to the village as he nears its heart. For a moment, he nearly misses Maea. Not because she isn’t noticeable—gods, if anything, the pale glow of her hair against the lush green makes her stand out—but because she’s hardly taller than the fae themselves. A small figure slumped onto a bench, burdened by something unseen.

Adjusting his wings slightly, he approaches, his steps quiet as ever. "Maea?" She was one of the last people he'd thought to find here, but then again it wasn't as though he was the only one seeking one of Vi's rare roses these days.

But darling if we do, just find me, and I'll find you

Maea

And it feels like fear
Like I'll disappear

Between the wings on his back and his stature - tall compared to the fae,  if not as much as some - Remi should be hard to miss. It appeared they were equally preoccupied with their own concerns however, because he already stood before her by the time her name on his lips registered. Thinking it was Liam again, Maea looked up. Already about to assure that really, she was fine and she'd figure something out, the words died away unspoken when she realized her mistake.

"Remi. What... are you doing here? Is everything alright?" It couldn't be, of course. Not when he was mourning a daughter and the threat of the Family hung over his head. But seeing him here when she'd expected him to be with Ronin, back in Torchline and holding down the fort, was somehow alarming.
Without hesitating she scooted over to make room for him on the bench. Whatever it was, she'd listen if he wished to talk, or merely sit in silence if he didn't. Given all the things going on around her, just seeing a friendly face made her feel a bit less bleak.

Gets so hard to steer
Yet I go on

let's not get lost in the dark blue

Remi exhales softly through his nose, and at her question, his lips press together for a moment, as if he’s considering how to answer, before he steps forward and lowers himself onto the bench beside her. The wood creaks faintly under his weight, his wings shifting slightly before settling again, tucked in close. "Mort sent me," he murmurs, dragging his fingers lightly over the grain of the bench as he stares out at the village before them. "Or, I suppose, Vi did. I need to collect soil." He doesn't explain why, not yet, but there’s something heavy in his voice, something weighted in the way he says it.

Only after a breath does he tilt his head toward her, his seaglass gaze tracing the tension in her posture, the quiet weariness settling into the corners of her expression. "And you?" His voice is quieter now, softer, though no less steady. "I didn’t expect to find you here."

There’s something unspoken beneath his words—because the last time they talked, she had been so certain, hadn’t she? Certain that she had to stay in the Grounds, that she owed it to herself, to the people there. And yet, here she was, as lost in thought as he was. Maybe even just lost in general.

But darling if we do, just find me, and I'll find you

Maea

And it feels like fear
Like I'll disappear

That Mort would send his demigod on errands was not strange to hear, though given Remi's joy when he explained the promotion to her last time, the heavy look in his eyes now left her with questions. And why would he be questing for Vi? "If you'd rather not talk about it, I won't ask...?" she murmured, offer and query woven into the same sentence. Whatever it was about - soil, apparently - had the potential to be both big and frightening, and Maea's confidence in her ability to help was at an alltime low. She'd still offer, but... beyond listening and being there, there wasn't much she could actually do.

Lowering her gaze to the tips of her boots where they poked out beneath the hem if her dress, she shrugged lightly. "Looking for roses. Same as everyone else, right now." She considered how much to tell him; it felt strange to whine about Flora to her father. "I thought I'd take your advice and move, after all. It's just... the queen of Torchline and I are still not on good terms. So I'll need to make myself useful, if I want to settle down in peace." It sounded a bit less pathetic than 'your daughter hates me and won't let me stay without a bribe', but not by much. "Haven't had any luck yet, though, and last night's storm wrecked my camp... But I'll figure something out." Compared to anything that troubled Remi, her worries were petty and small, and easy to solve.

Maybe if she told herself that enough times, Maea would start to believe it.

Gets so hard to steer
Yet I go on

let's not get lost in the dark blue

Remi exhales a slow breath, his fingers still tracing absent patterns against the wood beneath him. "Ronin’s infected," he says simply, without preamble, because what use is there in softening the truth? His voice is steady, measured, but there’s no mistaking the weight of it, the way it presses into the space between them like a gathering storm. "Mort thinks Vi might be willing to give me a rose if I complete a few tasks first."

The mention of "the queen of Torchline" earns the faintest twitch of his lips, more bemused than amused, though his tone remains neutral. "She has a name, you know," he murmurs, tilting his head slightly. "I would know, seeing as I gave it to her." His fingers tap idly against the bench, considering. "I've been on Flora's bad side often enough to know it isn’t a nice place to be. I wish you luck," he adds, though there's no real judgment in his voice, just understanding. Whatever it was that had soured things between Maea and Flora, it wasn’t his business to pry, not least of all because his track record with the Doubletake was probably worse than Maea's was.

At the mention of the storm, however, his brows knit together, concern creeping into his expression. "You’ve only been staying in a camp?" That, more than anything else, seems to throw him. Remi pauses, thinking back to the places he once knew in the Greatwood, the ones that might still stand. "There’s the guardian’s treehouse," he says after a moment, glancing toward her. "I built it with Juniper, years ago. It was still in good shape the last time I checked. You’d be welcome to it, if you wanted." His gaze lingers on her, quiet and steady. "I could bring you there now, if you’d like to see for yourself."

But darling if we do, just find me, and I'll find you

Maea

And it feels like fear
Like I'll disappear

A storm indeed. It altered the pressure in her ears enough that they popped. All sound turned down on mute and the potential repercussions of that little morsel of truth pingponged like a retro flipper game in her brain. It was too big. Too frightening. How Remi was keeping it together at all she couldn't underbart, but certainly his presence here made perfect sense now. Vi's involvement too.

Would that she knew what to say. Clutching the edge of the bench, Maea felt the might fall off if she let go. "It's a lovely name," she replied weakly. "I'm sure she's a lovely person too. I just think it's better if I stick to the titles for now... don't want to presume any kind of familiarity when there is none." Managing a bleak smile in return for the understanding, she was grateful for the lack of curiosity. She'd never ask Remi to take sides against his family even if it would help her own cause. These issues were between Flora and herself; she would fix them herself too.
"But, if I find something before you're done with the quest, I'll let you know. Ronin is more important than my plans." Torchline could wait, all her problems could wait if it meant curing the Knight.

The consternation in his voice at her choice of living situations had her mouth quirking under a smile. "Funds are tight," she explained - only to blink at the sudden offer. "Uhm... but isn't the fae leader using it? I'm no guardian - " And by being 'welcome to it', did he mean to stay in for now, or to keep?
Suddenly it was growing hard to breathe. Trying really hard not to get any hopes up, Maea met his gaze, her cheeks flushed with a surging hope. "But... I mean... sure. I can have a look. If you're sure..?"

Gets so hard to steer
Yet I go on

let's not get lost in the dark blue

Remi hums softly, his fingers stilling their absent movements against the bench as he watches Maea. "You know, that's probably quite smart of you, though I won't tell her that you've dared to use her name." He doesn't push the subject further, though—he’s learned, too, that his daughter handles things in her own time, and if Maea is determined to make peace on her own terms, then that’s hers to decide.

"I appreciate that," Remi says softly, glancing over his shoulder at Maea and trying not to let his exhaustion temper his smile. "And Ronin would too, not that he is in any state for such things right now."

The offer of the treehouse, though, is something else entirely. "Juniper hasn’t been around for a while," he says after a moment, his seaglass gaze flickering with something like memory. "And I don’t think the Fae have much use for it now. Last time I checked, it was still in good shape. And if nothing else, it’d keep you out of the rain. There are even a few supplies still left." Or there was last LongNight when he'd gone to see.

He pushes himself up from the bench, shaking out his wings slightly before tucking them close again. "Come on," he says simply, glancing back at her with a boyish smile. "I'd offer you my hand, but.." Just now his feelings wouldn't be the most pleasant, to put it mildly, and so he merely shrugs politely before shoving his hands into his pockets and offering his arm instead.

But darling if we do, just find me, and I'll find you

Maea

And it feels like fear
Like I'll disappear

Smart? A silent snort was all she offered at that. If she'd been any kind of smart Maea wouldn't be in this situation to begin with. If she'd been smart enough to keep her mouth closed and her head down, there would have been no reason to move at all because she would never have confirmed truths she'd rather not know of, or offended anyone, or almost gotten a lot of people killed. Maybe she could claim some level of bookish intelligence, but when it came to actions and their consequences, she may as well be blind and deaf and definitely dumb.

Relieved to leave that conversation behind, Maea let out a huff of breath and rose in Remi's wake. The non-offer of a hand to hold was met with a light shrug, because she'd be more than willing to hold his hand if it was offered - grief and worry was nothing new to her - but given they were trying so hard not to get in each other's way, she wouldn't insist.

Hooking arms with him instead, she picked up the bundle and let Remi lead the way towards the house. "This is beyond generous," she murmured, swallowing against the flutter of anticipation. "You keep doing such nice things for me, Remi, and I have no way of properly thanking you."

Gets so hard to steer
Yet I go on

let's not get lost in the dark blue

Remi exhales a slow breath as they step off the main path, his fingers briefly brushing the air as if reaching for something unseen. "Take us to the Guardian’s Treehouse," he murmurs, not to Maea, but to the Greatwood itself. He doesn’t know if the trees remember him—if the roots and the leaves, the very breath of this place, still consider him one of their own. He was their protector once. Their defender and guardian, and he hopes if nothing else the woods will speed their trip toward the treehouse.

He doesn’t expect an answer, not in words, but the forest shifts around them, the dappled light filtering through the canopy seeming to tilt in a new direction, the winding paths straightening ever so slightly, leading them forward. As they walk, the air thickens with memory. The wood feels the same as it always has, and yet—when the towering treehouse finally comes into view, Remi feels something settle in his chest. It is overgrown, of course. The vines have crept in, weaving through the railings, curling around the pillars, but the structure itself remains solid, steadfast against the years. The ramp leading up to the wrap-around porch is still sturdy, though some of the planks have worn smooth with time and exposure.

"You have absolutely no need to thank me, Maea. What sort of a man would I be to let you continue to live in a tent and keep this to myself?" Shooting her a wry look over his shoulder, the Bastion holds up his other hand. "Actually, don't answer that," he chuckles, leading them on until they reach their destination.

Stepping forward, Remi runs his fingers along the railing as he guides Maea up the steps. Inside, the space is simple but still undeniably touched by him. Even where nature has started to reclaim the corners, his presence lingers in the fine details—the carvings in the wood, subtle and intricate, shifting like waves and feathers and stars along the beams. The windows are large, letting in shafts of golden light, illuminating the faint etchings of names, of tiny sigils, of something left behind.

The supplies remain. A few blankets folded in a chest, shelves lined with carefully stacked jars, dried herbs hanging near the window. It is not just a place, but a piece of something once lived in, once loved.

But darling if we do, just find me, and I'll find you

Maea

And it feels like fear
Like I'll disappear

He'd be an ordinary man, of no less repute and standing than he was now. Maea could recall a time when seeing Remi had caused her stomach to drop out, when his eyes had held more darkness and storms than friendly light. She didn't answer but her mouth curled into a lopsided smile, thinking it wasn't all that long ago that he would have killed her before offering shelter. It was fortunate that times had changed. Now she got to see this incredible building, follow her friend up the steps and into a space that exuded comfort even with cobwebs and dust in the corners. To her eyes the vines wrapping around the exterior added charm to the place, and she hoped they weren't so detrimental to the structure that they had to be removed.

Stepping past the Bastion on light feet, Maea gazed around the room, taking in the light of the windows and how every surface appeared to be not only functional but wrought with care, and artistry. Trailing fingertips over a carved door frame, eventually she turned back to look at him.
"This place... it's so beautiful, Remi. Are you really sure you want to give it over to someone else?"

She could picture what living here might be like. Cleaned up and with fresh air pouring through the open door, it was as though she already tasted hot tea on a summer eve sitting on the porch, or curling up with a book as rain pelted the windows. She could fall asleep listening to the gentle groan and creak as the tree swayed on a midnight breeze, and maybe - just maybe - with snow piled deep over the ground below, it was a house where even LongNight was nothing to fear.

She wanted it. Badly enough that her hands ached for a boom, for mop and bucket so that she might settle in - maybe even settle down - this instant. But the sheer heat of her greed felt shameful, and she still couldn't quite believe that this was happening.
"Are you really giving me this? I could just stay for a few days until I find something else..." Maea would make him repeat himself as many times as it took - because once she got comfortable here, she wasn't sure she'd ever want to leave.

Gets so hard to steer
Yet I go on

let's not get lost in the dark blue

For a moment, as Maea moves through the space, as her fingers trail over the carved doorframe, as she turns to him with quiet wonder in her expression, Remi feels something shift in his chest. Nostalgia, sudden and unexpected, curls through him like the roots beneath their feet, like the wind threading through the canopy outside. This treehouse is the last piece of the Greatwood he’s still tethered to—the last remnant of a life that, once upon a time, he had thought might be his forever. But that time is long past. And whatever wistfulness lingers, it isn’t enough to outweigh the knowledge that he won’t be the one to bring this place back to life. He has a home elsewhere. A husband to return to. A family to protect.

"You don't need to find something else," he says simply, a small smile pulling at his lips. "It's yours, Maea." His seaglass gaze softens as he looks at her, watching the way she drinks it all in, the way the house is already settling into her, even if she’s too careful to settle into it just yet. "There’s just one condition," he continues, stepping further into the room, his fingers brushing briefly over a carving along the wall—something abstract, something half-forgotten. "If you ever grow out of your need for it, leave it stocked. Keep it supplied, so that the next person who comes through has everything they need."

It’s what the Greatwood would have wanted, he thinks. What he would have wanted, once upon a time. The treehouse had been built for more than one person’s use, and if Maea ever decided to move on, he’d like to think that it would remain what it had always been—a safe place, waiting for someone else to need it.

But darling if we do, just find me, and I'll find you

Maea

And it feels like fear
Like I'll disappear

It was too big. Too much to take in. A house. She had a house? Not a rented room, not a shelter, no temporary solution or a place to just store belongings while all her time was spent elsewhere. She had... a home? What an astonishing thing. It changed everything. Suddenly there was no rush to return to Torchline. She could search for the miracle flowers without a lump of panic in her throat, could take her time and do it thoroughly, could rest properly, think clearly – she could breathe again.

Staring mutely at Remi until his meaning was impossible to mistake anymore, Maea huffed a breathy laugh at the condition, too overwhelmed to be anything but amused. And grateful. "That's it? Yes. Of course. And you are welcome anytime. Your family too, whenever any of you want or need a place to go." For as long as she remained, be it a half season or far, far longer – no matter what. If this was a bargain it was one she'd happily deal in blood if need be.

A giddy elation was working its way up her spine, like molten lava threatening to erupt, except so much lighter. Breathless, as she was in a dream and might wake at a careless thought, she set her little bundle of belongings down by the door. Here. Yes. Stay; she could stay here. Would - gods, but her thoughts were grinding to a complete standstill.
Speechless Maea opened her arms to hug the Bastion, not even caring if she made contact with his skin or not. Whatever well of grief or worry might pour into her from his end, she could bear it; for her own part it was as though the sun had finally broken through heavy clouds. Her concerns and sorrows were the same as ever, except for a streak of new hope that threaded through her being. Tentative, frail - but it was there, a trickle that might just grow into a river one day.

"Thank you. I accept. Thank you..."

Gets so hard to steer
Yet I go on

let's not get lost in the dark blue

Remi barely has time to process the way Maea's expression shifts—the way disbelief melts into something softer, something lighter—before she’s moving, before her arms are opening. For a moment, the Bastion hesitates, his breath catching in his throat before his arms fold around her, careful but firm, and for a moment, he allows himself to be still. To be steady. To be something that isn’t just pushing forward, isn’t just reaching toward the next thing that must be done. His exhaustion, his worry, the weight of everything—it doesn’t vanish, but in this moment, it doesn’t have to. He exhales, slow and measured, feeling the way Maea’s joy hums against him like the first breath of morning after a long, dark night.

"You don’t have to thank me," he murmurs, his voice quieter now, but no less certain. "Just let yourself have this." Let herself take up space, let herself believe in a place that is hers, that does not have to be earned in sacrifice.

After a moment, he steps back, offering her a lopsided smile. "Now," he says, glancing around the treehouse, "I’ll help you get it back into shape, but only if you promise to make me tea when it’s done. Deal?" There’s warmth in his tone, something lighter, something teasing—but beneath it, there’s an unspoken truth.

She doesn’t have to do this alone.

~FIN

But darling if we do, just find me, and I'll find you