Private Tales We met by Road

The desert had long since lost its quaint novelty.

It had been rather beautiful for the first hour. By the second, it was tedious. By the fifth, it had become something of a mortal enemy.

Serelai trudged across the dunes, cloak drawn close, boots sinking into sand. The sun pressed down hard enough to feel deliberate, as if the sky itself resented her existence.

"Elbion," she muttered under her breath. "A college of mages. Scholars. Fantastic geniuses... And yet somehow, they weren't all smart enough to choose somewhere other than the desert for their stinking college, or make accurate maps with the right roads on them!" She kicked at a pebble, and regretted it instantly as her foot caught a handful of sand that slipped into her boot and settled between her toes, sticking to sweat. She whined long and loud into her empty surroundings, and at that she felt the faint shimmer of her patron speak to her in the language unique to themselves and their bond.

"Yeah yeah, character building," she went on, voice increasingly hoarse. "But... sunburn." She glanced at her arm that was slowly turning bright pink, dropped it dramatically to her side and let out another exasperated groan.

The heat shimmered ahead. A mirage, she thought, until it moved. A lone figure, struggling under the weight of a massive pack, stumbling like a pilgrim made of laundry. Serelai squinted, one hand shading her eyes.

"Either I've finally gone truly mad," she sighed. "Or the desert’s finally offering entertainment."

She adjusted her satchel and began toward the figure, each step slow but measured, her expression caught between curiosity and disbelief. The faintest shimmer of violet touched her eyes as she muttered to herself.

"If she’s real, perhaps she knows the way to Elbion. If not..." She furrowed her brow. "I’ll die hallucinating... a nun. Lame." She raised her arm up and waved as she walked closer, yelling across the sand. "I say, hello there! Please be nice! Are you nice? This lovely damsel could do with a little help!"

The closer Serelai got, the clearer it became that the figure was, in fact, very real. Not a mirage. Not some cruel desert trick. A woman, pale beneath a habit, silver eyes bright even against the heat-haze. Serelai slowed her steps, squinting, and muttered.

"Oh good. You are a nun. I was hoping my heatstroke came with a little salvation to keep the day interesting."

When the other greeted her in that lilting, archaic accent, Serelai blinked, then smiled despite herself, a little crooked thing.

"Interesting accent. I can’t decide if it’s charming or if I’m delirious." Might be both, she silently finished in thought.

She trudged the last few feet, brushing sand from her cloak and tossing her raven hair back from her face. Her green eyes caught the light, a quick shimmer of violet when she gave a faint laugh.

"Lost? Injured?" She glanced at herself briefly nonchalantly. "Both, probably. But I promise I’m not contagious, unless exhaustion spreads through proximity." She stopped mid-motion. "...It doesn't do that, does it?"

Her gaze lingered a little too long on Lilette’s face, flushed from the heat, framed by that habit, and she continued before she could answer her spontaneous rhetorical question.

"You’re awfully pretty for a hallucination, though. If you are real, perhaps you can point me toward Elbion before I melt into a very dramatic puddle. And I might get cranky. I'm no fun when I'm cranky."

She gave an exaggerated sigh, glancing to the horizon.

"Maps, as it turns out, are lies. Vicious lies, trapped in infernal parchment intent on bringing about the downfall of civilisation. I was going to learn advanced elemental theory and such. Now I’m just hoping for shade and a merciful death." Her eyes then glanced to the nun's satchel.

"Hey, you got any snacks in there?"

Serelai blinked when the nun, who apparently was indeed real to her immense relief, spoke again. Her accent rolled through the air like honey over old parchment, all lilting vowels and formality that somehow made even snacklessness sound regal.

"Charming and adorable," Serelai mused aloud, grin tugging at her lips. "If I die out here, at least it’ll be to the sound of poetry."

When Lilette presented the potion, Serelai eyed it suspiciously, squinting as if it might sprout legs and scamper away. She took it delicately between her fingertips, their hands brushing for a fleeting second, warm skin against cool porcelain. The elf paused, gaze flicking briefly up to meet silver eyes, then with theatrical solemnity she uncorked the vial and sniffed. Her nose wrinkled immediately.

"Smells like a blacksmith’s armpit."

Then, sighing, she took a sip... and immediately shuddered.

"Oh gods. Acidic, she said. You undersold it."

But the effect came fast. She could feel the hum of energy flood back into her veins, warmth rising to her cheeks, her pulse quickening. She took another gulp, then another, finishing the potion in a few swift swallows before exhaling sharply and wiping her lips with the back of her hand.

"Well," she said, color blooming again in her face. "That’ll wake a girl up."

Her eyes gleamed emerald bright, when she handed the bottle back.

"Cute and a miracle worker."

Serelai adjusted her cloak, glancing sidelong at Lilette.

"So, where are you headed, if not into certain death? You seem far too composed for this wasteland, if a little... pale." She smirked faintly. "Don’t tell me you’re off to convert the sand."

Serelai couldn’t help it. When Lilette stammered and flushed, it drew a grin from her, sly but genuine, her emerald eyes gleaming with mischief. She fell into step beside her, keeping a comfortable pace, the desert wind tugging faintly at her sand-coarsed hair.

When the nun introduced herself, Serelai gave a half-bow that was somehow graceful even in her travel-worn state, cloak sweeping a little sand aside.

"Serelai," she said smoothly. "A... traveller, mostly. No titles or holy vows or anything like that. And I promise I'm not normally one to get so... lost." Her tone carried a lilt of humor, though her eyes flicked over Lilette’s habit with quiet curiosity.

"The College of Elbion, then?" she mused as they walked. "Seems I’m bound the same way. Though I’m not entirely sure what to expect, or if they’ll even let me through the gates without a few miracles in my pocket." A faint laugh escaped her, light and self-effacing. "You... you want to study there too?"

The question came softer, but her mind wandered a little as she said it. A nun, studying magic? Her brow furrowed just a touch. She wondered how faith and arcane will could coexist, if the gods truly cared for those who devoted their lives to them, or if they simply delighted in the devotion itself. The thought brought a flicker of chill across her mind, dark and cynical, until she felt it. That gentle brush in the back of her thoughts, the reassuring warmth of her Patron. Not a voice exactly, but simply a reminder. She exhaled, almost smiling again.

"Still, it’s nice to have company," she said lightly, glancing sidelong at Lilette. "And you... Well, you really are pale." The words came out with a half-laugh, teasing but tinged with real concern. "Are you feeling alright? You’ve not even broken a sweat. I think I’m melting and you’re—"

She leaned in slightly, peering at the nun’s face in mock inspection, then straightened with an exaggerated shake of her head.

"You must tell me your skincare routine sometime. Some kind of... divine moisturiser, I presume?"

A little smirk curved her lips, but her gaze lingered a heartbeat longer than necessary before flicking back to the horizon.

For once, Serelai didn’t have a quip ready. She caught herself looking again at the woman beside her, and then quickly shifted her gaze to the horizon, pretending to study the dunes instead of the faint sorrow that had crept into Lilette’s voice.

"That’s..." she started, brow furrowing slightly. "...unfortunate." Her tone softened, the bite gone from it. "I hope it’s not painful. Or... well, not too much."

There was a quiet stretch of sand-crunching footsteps between them. Serelai’s fingers toyed idly with the clasp on her cloak as she wrestled with the faint prick of discomfort that came from sincerity. She wasn’t supposed to care. Not about strangers. Not about anyone. Not anymore.

Still...

"If I make it into the College," she said at last, glancing sideways again. "And I learn anything that might help... Well, I’ll... do my best to help you find out."

The words surprised even her as they left her lips. Her brow creased again, this time at herself, like she’d just realized she’d tripped over her own heart. She gave a small, awkward shrug, trying to chase off the weight of the offer with a wry half-smile.

"Don’t... get used to it," she added lightly, her usual edge slipping back in as if trying to hide any threat of vulnerability she may have accidentally exposed. "I’m not in the habit of making promises. The desert heat must be cooking what’s left of my good sense."

But her eyes lingered on Lilette just a moment longer, less teasing this time, but rather quietly thoughtful, before flicking ahead to the horizon again.

Serelai blinked at her, the soft cadence of those final words lingering a second longer than it perhaps should have. Then, for some reason that utterly escaped even herself, she tried to imitate it.

"Yes, well, uh… verily," she said, hands gesturing vaguely as if that might help. "Forsooth, and... yeseth."

She paused, and grimace.

"...eth."

She winced immediately, pinching the bridge of her nose and as she muttered to herself. She waved her hand dismissively, cheeks faintly flushed.

"...Kindly... pretend that didn't happen, would you, please?"

Her voice softened slightly, almost hopeful.

"You’re not, um—offended, are you? It was meant... flattering... ly. Flatteringly."

Before Lilette could answer, Serelai barrelled on into a new subject, her tone pitched just slightly higher than normal.

"So, ah—how long have you been a nun, then? You seem rather good at it. Or... is that something one can be good at? I don’t actually know the, ah, metrics of nunhood."

She cleared her throat, then smiled faintly, a little lopsided and sheepish. In the corner of her mind, she felt the tug of her Patron express something that made her reel a little more inside: amusement.

~Shut up~ she sent back flatly down the line.

Serelai listened in silence as they walked, the crunch of sand underfoot marking the rhythm of Lilette’s words. The way the nun spoke, her voice lightening when she recalled her studies and the faint spark that came to her eyes, made something in Serelai slow a little. She glanced sidelong, taking in how that pale face seemed to glow when she smiled. Entrancing, really. There was a kind of quiet strength there, beneath the formality and faint nervousness.

"I see," she said softly when Lilette finished. "I hope your convent has been able to help... with your condition. And that you’ve found what you were looking for."

She hesitated, gaze drifting across the dunes.

"I can’t say I’ve ever felt on good terms with the gods myself," she murmured somewhat mournfully. Her lips twisted in a dry half-smile before she caught herself and shook her head. When asked about herself, she took a breath.

"I’m from Falwood as well, actually. Not exactly by choice. It wasn’t... a great place for me."

She stopped walking for a moment, weighing whether to say more. Her fingers fidgeted absently with the strap of her satchel.

"I’m what people like to call an... ‘adulterine'... or 'spurious'... or... 'baseborn'... Someone even called me 'nullius filia' once. Heh." There was a bitter lilt in her voice as she spoke. "Half human, half elf. Wholly unwanted. My mother and her clan made sure of that. So... I left."

She fell quiet again, the wind catching a strand of her black hair and brushing it across her cheek.

"Didn’t really have much of a plan. Wouldn’t have known what to do from there if not for—" she stopped, catching herself before saying more, and forced a little shrug. “Well... I guess I just got lucky."

Her smile came small but sincere.

"Figured Elbion might be the one place in the world where being strange isn’t a curse. Maybe I can make something of myself there. Or at least, I don't know, just disappear."

She suddenly stopped altogether, eyes looking down at the stand as she struggled to lift her gaze as her fingers tightened around the strap of her satchel. Slowly, she glanced up to her companion.

"Not... Not really talked about that to anyone before, so."

She looked over to the horizon, avoiding eye contact, and let out a slow, measured exhale, wanting to put the impromptu confession behind her as rapidly as possible.

"Guess the sun will set in a few hours... Will we make it to Maraan by nightfall, you think?"

For a long while, Serelai said nothing. The words hung between them like a fine thread, delicate and heavy. The echo of Lilette's own confession as another unwanted daughter made something twist deep in her chest. She glanced sidelong at Lilette, at the way the woman’s pale face softened in the fading light.

"I see," she murmured, though the words came out smaller than she meant them to.

When Lilette spoke of her illness, of her uncertain years, Serelai’s steps faltered. For a heartbeat, she forgot the heat, the sand, the weight of her own pack. Her lips parted, but the first thing that escaped was a quiet, startled breath. Then, softly, she spoke again.

"I hope... you’ll be alright..."

Her voice cracked just slightly. She blinked fast, bringing the back of her hand to her eye before the sting there turned to a tear. A quick sniff, a low breath drawn through her nose as though she could steady herself with it.

They walked in silence after that.

The sun slid behind the dunes, bleeding the world into gold, then violet, then the blue-grey of oncoming night. Shadows stretched long over the sand. The air grew thin and cool, the heat retreating almost too fast. Serelai shivered once, clutching her cloak tighter around her shoulders. Finally, she spoke, her voice quiet again, but steadier.

"It’s getting cold..." She glanced sideways at Lilette, her expression half thoughtful, half weary. "Should we find somewhere to make camp? Before the night decides to kill us out of spite?"

There was a hint of humour again in her tone, small and wry, but her eyes lingered on Lilette a little longer than before, green and soft in the dusk.

Serelai couldn’t help but smile when she saw the faint silhouette of Maraan rising out of the haze. Relief spilled from her in a long, dramatic sigh, half laughter and half exacerbated groan.

"Thank goodness," she muttered.

They slipped down behind the ridge, finding a hollow between the dunes that promised at least some shelter from the wind. Serelai set her satchel down and tugged free a small folded tarp and a crooked stick. Hardly the work of a seasoned traveller, but it did the job. Within minutes, a meagre sort of tent stood, a small patch of shadow in the sand. She dropped a blanket beneath it, kicked off her boots, and flopped down with a long, theatrical groan that came from somewhere deep in her chest.

"Heavens," she breathed, eyes closing as her shoulders sank into the cloth. "I think I’ve lost feeling in half my body. Oof, my feet..."

For a few quiet moments she stayed there, just breathing, allowing her muscles to finally stop trembling. The ache in her feet still pulsed with every heartbeat, but she’d never felt so utterly grateful to finally stop. When she finally opened her eyes again, she caught Lilette’s pale figure in the dimming light and pushed herself up on her elbows.

"Suppose we should make a fire," she said as she reached into her satchel and pulled out a few small, dark wooden sticks wrapped in a cloth bundle. She crouched down, scraped a hollow into the sand and lined it with loose stones, setting the sticks in the middle.

She whispered something then under her breath, strange and otherworldly to those unfamiliar with it; the soft, lilting syllables of Ïzä, her patron’s fae tongue. At once, violet fire curled from her fingertips, sliding like liquid silk across the wood. The flame clung and twisted, bright but strangely cold-edged, licking at the air rather than the timber, which refused to burn. It shimmered like an illusion, alive but impossibly still. Serelai sat back and sighed, dusting her hands.

"That's better."

The glow threw soft colour across her face, violet and gold, and she blinked down at the sand that caught between her fingers. Her nose wrinkled.

"Ugh. I hate this. So coarse and rough and irritating. Sand gets everywhere."

She looked up at Lilette then, observing her stature and the way she held herself. She was indeed unusual, but Sere couldn't quite understand why.

"How are you not cold? I suppose nun outfits are made for all sorts of climate, huh..."

Serelai froze for just a heartbeat. The strange violet fire hummed softly beside them, and its glow caught the tension in her jaw, the way her fingers stilled over the sand.

Of all the things Lilette could have asked.

Her smile flickered, thinning just enough to betray the moment of wariness before she smoothed it back into something gentler. She kept her eyes on the fire rather than on Lilette’s searching silver gaze.

"Oh, that?" she said lightly, though her voice had gone a shade softer and more careful. "It’s... nothing grand. Just some older magic. My clan’s. Falwood’s full of odd little tradition, you know? Some families have their charms, some have their rituals. Mine had a few scraps of ancient language and such here and there."

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering a little too long as she redirected her thoughts.

A quick pivot, graceful but almost rushed.

"But anyway," she stretched her legs out, toes curling in the cooling sand. "The important thing is that we’re nearly at Maraan. Which means food. Actual food. I swear, I'm going to feast."

Her stomach gave a rueful growl right on cue, and she sighed dramatically.

"I want a proper meal.. Ugh, imagine... Crusty fresh bead. Cured meat. A stew that isn’t just.. reconstituted misery in a bowl."

She leaned back on her palms, glancing toward the faint silhouette of the city lights flickering in the distance.

"Tomorrow," she murmured, almost content. "A roof. A warm meal... Feeling returning to my legs."

She turned to Lilette, a soft, lopsided grin coming to her.

Serelai blinked, something tight in her chest loosening for half a second as that moment stretched between them. The stillness of the desert night, the faint crackle of violet flame, the way Lilette’s eyes dropped and the fabric of her hood shifted. It all struck her at once.

And heavens, she felt it. The quick, sharp thump of her own heart betraying her.

But then Lilette winced, hand going to her mouth, and the spell snapped. Serelai startled upright.

"Hey... Are you alright?" She leaned in a little, brow furrowed. "You look, I don’t know, dizzy? Maybe you should drink something."

She twisted around and reached into her backpack, only for her fingertip to snag sharply on the edge of a loose metal buckle.

"Ah!" A tiny sting. A bead of blood welled at once.

"Tsk, Astra's ass..." she muttered, more annoyed with herself than anything else. She stuck the offended finger into her mouth instinctively, sucking the small cut with another quiet curse muffled against her lips. She shook her head, pulling it free with a soft pop of breath.

"Even my bag is trying to kill me out here. Anyway... Water. Here."

She reached again — carefully this time — with the hand that held her freshly grazed finger, and pulled out her flask, offering it toward the nun with a searching look.

"Really. Are you okay? Maybe need an early night?"