Dusk came faster than she expected. Varek wasn’t yet back when Syraa packed the rest of her items in her shop and locked behind herself. The lights on the town streets reflected on the cobblestones. The night was warmer than usual, a soft breeze blowing her hair back.

Instead of heading home, she took a turn towards the stream. The noise of the town died back here, under the line of trees, near the quiet bumble of the water. There was a smile on her face that she couldn’t fight, and perhaps she no longer wanted to.

She sank into the grass, fingers fiddling with pebbles at the water’s edge. Long branches of willows ruffled the surface of the water as is tumbled over knotted eldervine roots.  

She tossed a pebble into the water and grimaced when it wouldn’t skip. Then she tried again, and again, until she gave up with a sigh of resignation.

Varek walked the streets back after dark. The shop was locked up, the market closed. She would have left by now, he thought. He would go back to the Arcanum then, and finish his reports. That was the logical thing to do. But his steps slowed, his boots kicking a small rock. He took a detour and followed the stream. The streets were empty here, despite the warmer night. In the darkness, alone, he could breathe free. No prying eyes, no one to fear him. No salutes, no orders, only him, and his thoughts. He didn’t want anybody watching. Or maybe perhaps just one.

He heard the soft splash of a rock in the water. He stopped mid-step, a slow smile curving his lips. What a coincidence. He watched her sitting by the stream, flicking pebbles into the water until she gave up. He stepped closer, leaves crunching under his feet.

Her hand flew to the dagger at her hip, but when she saw him, her shoulders eased. She let out a breathy laugh.

“You scared me. I thought I was alone.” She patted the ground beside her.

“Didn’t mean to,” he said, closing the distance. “I can still leave if you’d rather…”

“No, please. Sit.” Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight. “I just didn’t expect you. Or is it tomorrow already?”

He laughed as he lowered himself onto the ground. He sat cross-legged, elbows resting on his knees.

“This day dragged longer than I wanted,” he admitted quietly, brows furrowing.

“Though job?” she asked carefully, unsure how much she wanted to hear of the Arcanum’s business.

“Every job is a tough job when you despise it,” he muttered bitterly, gaze fixed on the water.

The silence stretched until Syraa broke it with a soft tease.

“Strange words from an Arcanite,” she said, working around the tension simmering behind his voice. He only nodded, unwilling to hand her the weight of what lingered unsaid. It wouldn’t be fair.

Syraa toyed with yet another pebble and sent it plopping uselessly into the stream. She groaned.

“They wouldn’t skip…” she complained, changing the sensitive subject.

His eyebrows lifted, the spark returned to his eyes. “Want me to show you?”

She arched a brow, passing him a pebble. He flicked it across the water, and it skipped four times before sinking. Her mouth fell open. Leaning in, he explained the trick: how to hold the stone, how to flick her wrist, which pebbles were best. His fingers brushed hers as he adjusted her grip.

“Here. You try now,” he said, dropping a flat rock in her palm. She gave him a lopsided smile, and flicked the pebble. She gasped when it skipped two before sinking. He watched her eyes light up and felt a warmth spread inside him. How can one look so innocent and fierce at the same time?

He muttered a few praises, and caught himself rambling about skipping stones and the different pebbles when he noticed her grin widen.

“What is it?” he switched suddenly.

“Nothing, it’s just…” she didn’t finish. Instead, her fingers brushed through his hair, lingering longer than they needed to. She plucked a leaf free and dropped it.

“You have ridiculously soft hair…” she muttered, half a smile tugging at her lips. “Is that a fireborn thing?”

Varek was caught off-guard by the quiet earnestness in her tone. He licked his lips before daring to answer.

“I… don’t know, you tell me. You’re also one.”

She shrugged. “Nah, I’m only half, you know. I have only half of the features.”

He looked at her sideways with a faint smile. “Lucky you,” he whispered, “you got all the nice ones then.”

Her lips curved, softer than before. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked back at the water, hiding the heat in her cheeks.

Varek’s gaze lingered a moment too long before he pulled it away, fixing on the stream as though it held all the world’s answers. The silence between them stretched - not heavy, not uncomfortable, but full.

_________

Author's note:

Syraa and Varek are getting closer and closer, one tiny step at a time. Where do you feel this is going? And which one do you relate to more: Syraa or Varek? Let me know in the comments!