“You came back,” Estrid sounded relieved as she smiled down at him. Ranvir nodded, keeping the slight frown off his face. Behind her, he saw the approach of the remaining student body. Dovar walked in front. Perception enhanced eyes picked out the smile clear on his friend’s face. It mirrored small on Ranvir’s own.
“I did.”
Estrid cleared her throat and looked around. “We need to talk.”
Ranvir nodded in agreement. A rush of air blew across the clearing in front of the school. Chill winds cut through his sweat-soaked blouse, yet the cold was easily bearable still. A warmer morning than many recent ones.
“Hop on?” she asked, gesturing behind her. Getting on behind her, she drew them away from the school and incoming crowd.
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The school was loud and active as Ranvir strode the halls. People were laughing and exchanging stories. They’d apparently gotten up to some mischief while out on the trip. Ranvir was surprised that grown people — most older than him, some by more than a decade — got into ‘trouble.’ It must be because of the lack of responsibility, he reasoned.
Chatter and the occasional laugh echoed down the halls, yet Vasso reacted not. Walking by his side, the young man fidgeted nervously with the palm of his hand. A long faded burn scar laid distorted lines along the surface.
Resting a hand against his back, Ranvir grinned down at him. He felt the confidence he attempted to exude about as much as Vasso showed it. That talk with Kirs — at her — really is coming back to bite me in the ass, isn’t it? Because the situation wouldn’t have at all affected him before their talk.
“Nervous?”
Vasso gave a nonchalant shrug, which looked more like a flinch of pain in his distraught face. He cleared his throat and spoke in a croak, regular ears would’ve never picked up, “No.”
“Really? Impressive,” Ranvir said, grinning. “I’m about ready to shake apart myself.” He held out an appropriate, twitchy hand.
“Why?” A little more power behind him this time.
“I didn’t avoid them because I thought it would be funny. Meeting with them would force a confrontation I didn’t want to have.”
“But you’re doing it now.”
“Something more important came up.”
Vasso smiled, and Ranvir patted his back. Soon enough, yet all too soon, the familiar door came up. Gesturing him forth, Ranvir pointed at the door. “Go ahead.”
Vasso gave him a wide-eyed look.
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Estrid didn’t travel far. Just enough that normal ears wouldn’t pick up their words. “They’ll know we want privacy from here,” she said, turning on the still hovering stone.
Ranvir stepped down, and she followed. Keeping that same distance between them, he realized how close he’d been to her on the obsidian. Her smell overwhelmed and infiltrated, natural and earthy and sweaty from hard days’ effort. A few fresh cuts and bruises marked her forearms and face. Minor injuries that nonetheless spoke of her continued sparring practice.
Blushing, she reached out and took his hands in hers.
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Ranvir knocked, forcing himself to do so loudly. It hurt with each sharp rap. Through the door, he heard someone snuffle and clear their throat. Another person banged around with some items near the couch.
“Who is it?” Shiri called, her voice clear and strong.
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Ranvir exchanged a glance with his son. “It’s Ranvir and Vasso.”
Quietly muttered, cursing from both in the room, then.
“Come in.”
“Go away, Manwhore.”
“Laila!” Shiri’s sharp voice rang like a knife, so sharp he felt it through the door. Sniffling and moaning ensued, yet the door pulled open, revealing Shiri. In a long dark blue work dress covering her from neck to ankles, she wore an undyed linen apron over it. Spots of water speckled the covering and suds of soap still clung to wrinkled hands. Her hair was tied into a messy red nest at the nape.
Shiri and Laila’s rooms looked much as any other time Ranvir’d seen them. The main room, originally a lounge, they’d added a wood stove, a small dinner table, keeping only a couch and table at the other end of the room. Shutters along the wall were opened and bringing a brisk breeze in. Shiri’s room, next to the kitchen, was closed and padlocked. Laila’s on the opposite end was open wide and messy.
Scowling from the couch, Laila sat halfway up on the couch. Her dress was slept in and her hair clearly hadn’t seen neither water nor brush in a while. Her eyes and nose were red and face swollen from tears.
Vasso inadvertently hitched a step forward before stopping himself. Stepping forward, Ranvir moved between him and Laila, breaking sight and getting in the way should either move too fast for the other.
“Uh,” Shiri’s face was pale as she backed away, returning to the washbasin. She appeared to be in the middle of cleaning a pan. “Why…” She shook her head and trailed off.
“What do you want?” Laila’s words weren’t near as scathing as she wanted them to be, coming from such an affected face.
“I’ve come because I think you and Vasso need to talk some things out,” Ranvir said, smiling encouragingly at his son. “For best of both of you.”
Tentatively, Vasso walked around him. Despite his frightened walk, Vasso’s face was set with determination.
Ranvir’s heart hammering in his throat, he walked over to Shiri. Those beads of nervousness that had been rolling around in the upturned soil of his cleared emotions had gathered speed. Now they zipped about, flashing to and from fast enough that it felt as if they’d burst through his stomach.
“I overheard what she said to Vasso,” Shiri said, not looking up from her work. “I’ve been trying to get her to see understand it wasn’t right, but… she’s a noble, Ranvir. Some things don’t come to her as easily.”
“It is important that…” Ranvir trailed off, wincing at himself. If he let himself be diverted even slightly, he’d never bring himself back on track. Shiri looked up at him, her face set into a stiff mask, wondering why he’d trailed off. “I’ve been avoiding you.”
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Estrid stepped closer and Ranvir backed off. She frowned and took his hands in hers. “You came back. You aren’t with Shiri. I saw how you sent Ayvir after the little noble. That means you’ve been waiting for me.” She looked up at him.
He’d have called the look she gave him hopefully, but there was way too much certainty in those eyes for hope to ever play into it. It was confidence, thinly masked by concern. “You aren’t running from me anymore.”
“Because I knew this would be easier.”
“Love is easy,” she smiled, blushing, and stepped closer.
“I’m not in love. You’re not even that nice, Estrid. You’re overbearing, unaccountably confident, and bring out the most frustrated and angry part of me. I don’t like myself when I spend time with you, and I don’t think I particularly like you when it comes down to it.”
Ranvir winced and stepped back. His wings stretched out and in from frustration. Estrid had gone pale as snow, her face freezing into a mask of stunned disbelief. “This whole thing brings out the worst of me. I become aggressive, overly defensive.” He thrust his hands out as if to throw it all off.
“‘This whole thing?’” she asked, still unable to comprehend what was happening.
“Love, I guess. Romance.” Ranvir shook his head. “I need to be done with it.” He shouldn’t have gone onto her stone. It was too close. She got the wrong idea, obviously.
“What do you mean?”
“End it. This thing between you and Shiri. Me too, I guess.”
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“I…” Shiri straightened, a wet finger pushing an errand lock of red out of her face. The move streaked her ear with suds. Grimacing, she twitched to wipe it with her shoulder, then grabbed a towel as was proper. “I noticed.”
Ranvir shook his head and rubbed a hand over his face. His wings hitched, spreading slightly out, then pulling back. They began doing so recently and he didn’t know if it was growing comfort with the limbs, or he was losing control of them. You’re distracting yourself.
“Yeah, I guess you would’ve.”
“Why?”
“You make me afraid.”
Her eyes widened, and she swayed on the spot. Then she laughed. “I make you afraid? You?”
Ranvir nodded, clearing his throat. “And it’s about time—”
“Why?”
Ranvir blinked, pushed off track. “Sorry?”
“Why do I scare you?”
His mouth worked for a moment.
“What do you have to fear?” she snorted, as if the idea was ridiculous. “Aren’t you some sort of demi-god?”
Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say—
“I’m scared I’ll be like my Dad,” he admitted. The world seemed to have gone still, marked clearest inside himself. Each nervous bead, glowing faintly flickering whitish yellow, had stopped or been stopped dead.
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“I heard you went to talk with Shiri today,” Pashar said the moment she stepped into his office. “I’d ask how it went, but…” she scanned the immaculate office. “You’ve either done a lot of work, or been cleaning.”
“I put a stop to it,” Ranvir said, leaning back in his chair, wing tips tickling the ground. He gestured sharply. “Cut the tiresome chase and get rid of it all.”
“But?” Pashar asked, drawing it out with a knowing smirk.
“I have a date.”
“You failed.” Her grin was audible, his glare almost so.