Luckily, or maybe because of their brilliant victory against the siren, no drowned undead came during the night to attack them. Joan and Alessia, slowly healed from that last battle, no more scratch or bruises were still visible, physically they were sound. Emotionally there was still a lot to process. Joan had not told Alessia what had happened to him, he couldn't really explain it anyway, so he felt no urge to try and tell her. Soon they would go their separate way and he didn't want to leave her with more things to plague her mind. Sometime, at night, he would hear the distant echo of her voice, even more distorted that back then, while he knew that they were getting closer to the sea, he couldn't explain the saltine smell he would find in the air after each echo. Alessia didn't smell it, he decided to put it on his lack of sleep, hallucinations are a common symptom of severe lack of sleep. And although he slept, he wasn't going to claim that he slept well. Neither of them did.

Alessia, spent most of her night turning in her bedroll, every time she would wake up she would seek her companion, and would manage to fall back asleep only once she had made sure that he was still here. It needed some getting used to, to miss someone, every time she thought of Alexis something ached, her heart maybe. She was not someone who had faced the death of a loved one often as a child. As a matter of fact she had lost only one other person in her entire life, her grandmother, when she was seven. It had been one of the hardest thing she had to live through, not only had she been devastated, she had to witness her mother live through it. Someone she thought was akin to a goddess, her mother, the head of House Voder, the greatest nose in the perfume industry, the violon prodigy. A woman who never smiled unless necessary, who never changed her tone, who never blinked one too many time. Someone as unchanging as the succession of days. She had to watch her shatter, cry and lose sleep, watch her locked herself in her room for hours while her husband, Alessia's father, stood powerless. It was also the first time she had received any kind of comfort from her father, a man she called Herr Voder most of the time.

When she stood in the cemetery, wearing black along her two sister and her brother, with her parents standing behind her, with the whole family around them, it was then only that she realised that her grandmother had died. A single tear had rolled down her cheek as she realised that it meant that she could never go back to her grandmother house in the outskirt of San Vale, that she would never help her water the roses again, that she would never listen to her playing the piano again…That she would not be held in her arms ever again. That her yearning was now like a ribbon flying away from her, the person that use to hold it for her was gone, she could never go back. She didn't cry about her grandmothers death ever again after that.

Alexis had been in her life for such a short time compared to her grandmother, yet, as she held Joan while he was unconscious, her friends body had been lying there, and for the entire time she had cried. She had cursed the heavens, she had cursed the Mother. When he died in her arms even before that, she had felt nothing but distress and hatred. She had tried to wake him. But when she was alone, screaming into the night and then into the nascent morning, that anger had changed into something else, a feeling she had never experienced. And as the day went by, the pain and the empty spot left by his death, had been like a gaping wound or a pothole in the road, every time she tripped on it she would hurt again. The only comfort she found was in knowing that Joan was alright so far, that she was also alive. That she hadn't lost everything. She dreaded their arrival in Merriam for the sole reason that it meant that she was soon going to see him go without her. That thought terrified her.

Joan also found comfort in knowing that his companion was by his side. But he dealt very differently with grief. His life he was starting to realise, felt cursed, it had been littered with disasters, grief, and pain. He blamed himself for the most recent one, the death of Alexis. A man he regretted he didn't get the chance to meet earlier, to know for longer, someone so different than his usual acquaintance that he became one of the most fascinating person of his entourage. He couldn't protect him, he failed at his duty, as a friend, as a companion of misfortune. The letter adding to the injury in how much it felt like Alexis already knew he was going to die before them, making his death feels like a sacrifice. What has been sacrificed cannot be saved. Why would someone sacrifice themselves, why do people seem so keen on throwing themselves into danger like that. Why do people wish to die so other can live, why can't everyone be saved!

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

When Alessia turned in her bedroll once more their eyes met, and for an instant, they understood each other, they knew, without a doubt. Joan smiled at her and she smiled back. Everything was fine, right now they have an eternity of calm in one simple instant. It was going to be alright, they were going to make it.

The next morning the city's silhouette could be seen in the pinkish sky. They were arriving. On their right, the sea could already be seen, shimmering and glitering, a sight not so dreadful, not so terrifying, but rather pretty. The echo resonated once more but Joan ignored it, yes there is salt in the morning air, they are driving close to the Mother. They are making their way to a coastal city. Yes there is the ever so distant song of the waves, the cries of birds, things that they knew, that they lived with before. A false sense of familiarity that was strong enough to help Joan discard his thoughts on the matter of the angry existence trying to make him go crazy.

They entered Merriame easily, the crowded street and the busy people running around reminded them of Margen. They guided the carriage to the inn they were meant to stay at and found that surprisingly the rooms were still available and paid for them. Upon asking where the third member of the party was both of them felt their heart bleed and eventually it's Joan who found the strength to tell them what had happened, of course omitting the undead part and simply painting their aggressor as regular bandits. The Innkeeper offered them a drink and they let them bring their luggage to their room. Alessia would never admit it but for the first time in her life she felt like she was going to miss the proximity brought by their travel. Her constent comfort seeking during the night would go unanswered, she was bound to get a little scared and spend a terrible night. She said none of that. Of course.

After they had brought their luggage up Joan and Alessia decided to walk around the city, to take in the sea of people. It was the first time in nearly a month that they had seen that many people. They idly walked around town, stopping by at some shops, to look at the wares or to buy something to eat. Eventually their steps brought them to the town square. It was overlooking the city docks and the sea. The nice stone square was decorated with a kiosque and many flower beds that brightened up the area and brought forth a nice flower aroma that concealed quite well the smell of salt, salt that covered pretty much everything in the city.

Alessia did catch many people staring at her, women in trousers were still a rare sight to behold in these parts of Suloo, but ultimately no one made comment out loud to her. She took that as a victory, Joan, in his usual fashion did not catch what had transpired between the towns folk and his young friend. He did catch however that Alessia was walking faster than usual and complained to her, to which she simply replied that she still had a lot to see.

"What's the point in stopping at a city to wind down if you are going to run around furiously!"

"Furiously? Aren't you being dramatic now? I am not 'running around furiously' I am 'walking around the city enthusiastically'! There is a difference."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite sure!"

"In any case, can you please slow down? We still have a lot of daytime and I wish to not spend it half out of breath trying not to lose sight of you in an unfamiliar city!"

"Are you scared you might get lost?"

"I am in fact positive that I have no idea on how to return to our inn and I would hate having to ask anyone for help."

"You should not be so…People are nice."

"People can be nice but they can also be complicated, I don't want to appear rude to someone that could have helped me."

"As long as you go up to them with a smile and speak nicely people shouldn't find you rude."

"Exactly, you said quite many time already that my smile, when forced, looks dreadful."

"Come on now, I was being dramatic, it is not that bad"

They continued to bicker for a long time but frankly they were not being serious, they were only being facetious. Pleasantly chatting along sunlit street and colorful flower beds that made them feel like they had not felt the sun on their skin or seen bright colours in month. This Meriam of the Northen shore was definitely a bright and happy place. Perhaps a feeling that all shipwrecked and denizen of bigger cities felt when arriving here. It really wasn't so bad.