“I did.”

“That’s ludicrous! How did you get these?”

“I know people.”

“What people?”

“Special people.”

“I'm just… wow,” she had no words to describe her shock at the confections before her. Truly, there was no greater gift to get Elara Idris than something that could be consumed, which was in contrast to her lithe frame. The box bore three rows of Chocolate Crisps: thin, bubbly sheets of chocolate layered with an assortment of nuts and other sweets. Even in the outside air, the aroma of the delights brought untold savor to both their senses. She hesitated on grabbing a crisp, unsure of whether she wanted to drain her supply of one so soon.

“They're not meant to look at,” he smiled at her, delighted by her mania over the confections. “Go on. Have one.”

“Should I?” Her voice oozed indecision as if the question held the stakes between life and death.

“I'll take one if you don't.”

The crips were in her mouth not a second after Ander made his threat, and its effects were immediate. She did her best to savor it, but it was gone in a flash.

“Good?”

“They're great,” she mewled, fighting with all her will not to take a second. “Really, how did you get these?”

“You know all that work I did for the Adrisaals?”

“No…”

“Yep. Mr. Alchov had a friend over in the capital who had connections with Sylvee Bakeshop. I was hesitant to just send the man the money, but I had faith in Mr. Alchov's connections, and so, here we are.”

With the utmost care, Elara closed the velvet box and put it beside her on the roof, patting it like a man would his dog. Then, with the swiftness of an Alff, she trapped him in a tight embrace, hugging him like there was no tomorrow. Once again, Ander reciprocated the show of affection, patting her head as she held on for dear life.

“Alright, alright. It is just chocolate, after all.”

“It's much more than chocolate,” she sighed, adjusting herself to lean against her older brother. “Hey, Andy?”

“Yeah, what’s the matter?”

“Would you be mad if I happened to have something for you?”

“Would I be mad,” he shot the question back at her, finding it rather bizarre. “There isn't a world in which I'd be mad at you, Ela. Would I find it a tad strange? Maybe. It is your birthday, after all.”

“Yes, yes, I know, but, I just really want you to have this, I put a lot of work into it.” She stared at him with curious eyes as she reached into the pocket of her dress, digging for whatever she had in store for him. She procured her palm, and in it held a small, folded piece of parchment. “Here. Have this, please.”

Taking it in his hands, he inspected it closely. He looked down at her, verifying if he was meant to unfold it.

“Go on, take a look.”

As he opened up the tab of parchment, he was shocked at what was inscribed on it. It was them. An exact copy of them, drawn out in spectacular detail before his very own eyes. The parchment was a portrait of their family: father, mother, son, and daughter. Their parents, drawn with absolute precision and magnificence, were stoic figures above their two children, who had endearing smiles with a brightness Ander just couldn't manifest with words. The tapestry was a harmony of dark and light, warmth and cold. Vibrant colors were weaved across their forms with details of shadows and flares made in accordance with where the light was assumed to shine from. It was an artwork fit for the gods, in every way, shape, and form.

“This is… How did you do this, Ela? This is us!”

“Do you like it?”

“I can't- I can't even put it into words,” he loosened his grip on the edges of the paper, viewing it as a fragile piece of absolute perfection. “Did you draw this?”

“That I did,” her eyes sparked with the faint glow of the stars, reveling in the admiration she was receiving. The same words he had spoken to her with such sincerity had been sent right back in his direction. “That I did…”

“This is mine now,” Ander held the tapestry against his chest, looking Elara straight in the eyes. “This is mine. Now and forever, you don't get it back.”

“*Giggle*, I can live with that,” her smile shone through the night, having vanquished a million worries she had harbored prior to her brother’s reaction. Joy flowed through every vein in her body. A truly perfect way to cap off a wholly perfect night. 

In a move that stunned the young woman, Ander leaned forward and hugged her, leaving her momentarily dazed. She had always been the one to initiate hugs or embarrassing showings of affection, never her more restrained and in-control brother. Yet he was in control, and this action, this show of affection, was the perfect embodiment of the emotions running through him. There were few possessions he had emotional or strong ties with, and despite not having owned the picture for more than a minute, it was already the one physical thing he prized the most.

“Since when have you been an artist?” He asked, pulling away from his sister.

“Oh, don’t give me that. I’m no artist.”

“Pfft, in what world is this not a masterpiece,” he showed Elara the picture as if she hadn’t been the one to draw it. “Really! You could be the next Vivian Marquise!”

“Now you’re just pulling my leg.”

“Honest I’m not!”

“Not that I’d care for anything she has,” Elara reclined onto her back, staring up at the glistening orbs above. “Even if I was some masterful genius, I wouldn’t go flaunting it to any old stranger. My work’s reserved for my family, and that just so happens to include you.”

“And I’m forever grateful for it,” he joined her on his back, hands still holding the artwork. Fearing he would somehow destroy it by admiring it any longer, he folded it up and tucked it into the pocket of his trousers, patting it down as if to beg it not to fall out. 

“You just had to get one over on me, didn’t you,” he chuckled. “Couldn’t even let me give you a better gift. On your birthday, moreover!”

“You’ll just have to try a little harder next time, Andy,” she shook her head in faux displeasure. She saw nothing all that grand in her art, having gone so far as to fear Ander would find it distasteful. But seeing him admire it as he had, and treasure it, put her over the moon with joy. Time crept on, and the voices of the party below began to crow quieter and fewer in number. They refused to move from their roof, only returning to their folks when directly called upon by their father. The two took excessive care in belaying off the roof, now carrying treasures they held very, very dear.

When all was said and done, Ander found himself reclined in his bed, staring out the window at his side. Glimpses of the constellations up high beamed through the slits of his blinds, specifically the ‘Forge Of Aranos’, and the ‘Sails of Valor’. It wasn’t the only light that fell into his room: tonight heralded a full moon, with all the grandeur it brought with it. He still had with him his treasured portrait, stuffed tidily in his pocket. The night was calm and quiet. It was long past the time the party had died down, and thus all were surely laid in their beds just as he was.

Images of what tomorrow brought crept into his mind. He was abuzz with thoughts of Layla and the time they would spend together, a part of him hoping he could force himself to make their work a recurring thing. 

But that was a worry for tomorrow. What he had now was a tranquil night, and as he closed his eyes, he relaxed into his mattress and drifted soundly into the soft embrace of sleep.